_The Mendele Review_: Yiddish Literature and Language (A Companion to _MENDELE_) ______________________________________________________ Contents of Vol. 01.021 1 October 1997 Symposium on Sholem-Aleykhem's "Dos porfolk" 1) Yiddish Matters: From the Editor (Leonard Prager) 2) Symposium on "Dos porfolk" by Sholem-Aleykhem (Louis Fridhandler; Dan Leeson; Marjorie Schonhaut Hirshan; Ron Robboy; Harvey Spiro; Sholem Berger; Ariela Krasni) 1)---------------------------------------------------- Date: 1 October 1997 From: Leonard Prager Subject: Yiddish Matters --_TMR_'s First Readers' Short-Story Symposium _The Mendele Review_ begins the New Year with its first readers' symposium. The subject of this exchange of views is a story by Sholem-Aleykhem, the great humorist who taught us that "lakhn iz gezunt" ('laughter is healthy'), and whose humor is often said to elicit "laughter through tears." There is a mild comic strain in "Dos porfolk" -- the comedy of domestic life with a sexist "he" and a more sagacious "she" -- but the story is overwhelmingly grim. Many readers do not know this Sholem-Aleykhem, but he is the same artist whom we know from _Tevye_ and other great works. The participants in our symposium, explicitly or implicitly, acknowledge the unusual character of this Sholem-Aleykhem story. Their approaches are varied: historical, biographical, subjective, fictional-imaginative and formalistic. While there is some concurrence in their contributions -- here given in the order in which they were received -- there is little repetition. Nor does anyone nurse the illusion that the last word has been spoken. 2)---------------------------------------------------- Date: 1 October 1997 From: Louis Fridhandler; Dan Leeson; Marjorie Schonhaut Hirshan; Ron Robboy; Harvey Spiro; Sholem Berger; Ariela Krasni Subject: Sholem-Aleykhem's "Dos porfolk" ------------------- Date: 1 October 1997 From: Louis Fridhandler Subject: On Sholem-Aleykhem's "Dos porfolk" Louis Fridhandler On Sholem-Aleykhem's "Dos porfolk" Some critics have proposed that a work of art can best be evaluated apart from the artist and his or her life circumstances. I hold this is impossible if art is a human enterprise engaging heart, mind and soul of both artist and audience. Therefore, I must insert a few biographical details as background to reflections on this dark, odd, even bizarre, Sholem-Aleykhem piece. The grisly Kiev pogrom of late 1905 was still a fresh, rankling memory in 1908 while Sholem-Aleykhem toured many cities and towns in eastern Europe, giving public readings to great acclaim. This tour was suddenly interrupted at the end of July, 1908, when he collapsed with acute hemorrhagic pulmonary tuberculosis. After a forced rest for months, Sholem-Aleykhem continued to write under severe physical, psychological and financial duress. Throughout 1909 he was often feverish, and wrote lying in bed. Still, his productivity was impressive in both quantity and quality.(1) Most of his _Ayznban geshikhtes_ ('Railroad Stories') bear the date 1909. Sholem-Aleykhem was in a sanatorium in Nervi, Italy in the spring of 1909 when he wrote "Dos porfolk oyf peysekh" (the original title). It was published in 1909 in Odessa in Y.-.L. Levinski's _Sholem-Aleykhem's yontef bibliotek_. The pamphlet contains charming advertisements for wine (health-promoting!) and for a cooking fat (pareve!). These were probably two of Levinski's enterprises. Levinski, himself a writer of Hebrew and Yiddish, was a good businessman devoted to the community of Jewish writers, coming to their aid in time of need. If not for Levinski "Dos porfolk oyf peysekh" may not have been published. When a special committee finally reclaimed for Sholem-Aleykhem the financial rights to his own past work, Levinski's Yontef bibliotek, now superfluous, ceased publication. "Dos porfolk oyf Peysekh" irresistibly invites speculation as to its symbolic and allegorical meaning despite Sholem-Aleykhem's caveat to forget all that. Incidentally, the caveat was omitted in the 1913 Yubileum oysgabe version, Vol. 13. And contradictions arouse questions. Why is the couple called a married couple (the meaning of _porfolk_) when they have just met? Dos porfolk identify themselves as American Indians (the meaning of _indianer_). Then, why does the omniscient narrator (who knows the inner musings of "di indianer") identify them as of aristocratic pedigree stemming from India? Does this contradiction reflect Sholem-Aleykhem's own misconception? Is it surrealistic? At any rate, "di vilde mentshn" ('the savages') are not the American Indians who in popular folklore of the time were so conceptualized. In a startling reversal, Jews carrying out ritual slaughter of caged, helpless animals are the savages, "di vilde mentshn." Two of the intended victims of ritual slaughter are thinking, feeling beings. They invite the reader to observe along with them a bitter irony: a feast to celebrate freedom is prepared by killing caged, bound beings who also long for freedom. All this for God. The helpless victims wonder about God. (The English translation won't help the interpreter. The translator reconciles a couple of contradictions, which is no favor to Sholem Aleichem. These elusive enigmas are of the essence artistically, but at least two are lost in Shlomo Katz's translation: "dos porfolk" does not mean "the pair"; the protagonists' self-identification as American Indians is omitted.) I think several levels are discernible in the piece. One level presents the enigmas I sketched above; another resonates with the condition of Jews in Russia. The history of anti-Jewish Russian decrees, the crazy delusions about Jews promoted by _The Protocols of the Elders of Zion_ just four years earlier, the recurring pogroms and blood libels, restriction to the Pale of Settlement (caged? awaiting victimization?), etc. all qualify as elements of the sub-text of this cautionary (if not allegorical) tale. Who are the victims, who the victimizers? The viewpoint shifts, keeping us off balance, as Sholem-Aleykhem must have felt. It seems he temporarily lost the robust poise he had earned with such taxing labor through his sense of ironic humor. This hard-earned poise had served him well in facing a terrorizing world. However, in "Dos porfolk," he allowed a grim, uncharacteristic mood to prevail. People wondered. Levinski informed Sholem-Aleykhem that _people_ in Odessa were saying that "Dos porfolk" had not turned out well. In his own defense, Sholem-Aleykhem wrote to Levinski on March 26, 1909 (from Nervi: "And about what you told me in secret of what people are saying -- what can I do? You know, of course, the French adage -- a beautiful woman can't give more than she possesses." Sholem-Aleykhem wrote further about a letter he had received from the critic Bal-Makhshoves full of praise for "Dos porfolk." This highly respected critic thought "Dos porfolk" possessed greater artistic merit than the humorous pieces (Berkovitsh, Y.-D., ed. _Dos Sholem-Aleykhem bukh_ New York: Sholem-Aleykhem bukh-komitet, 1926, p. 230). I am not aware of any letter or communication from Sholem-Aleykhem that explains the meaning of "Dos porfolk." We are on our own, apparently. The strains and contradictions are, I suggest, part of the art. The reader must struggle (with limited success) for resolution of contradictions, challenging his or her own preconceptions. Finally, politics: Russian authorities were always ready to use their power to harshly curb discussion of Russian crimes against Jews, in the press or in literature or elsewhere. Sometimes an inversion in a fable slyly disguises the true lesson, and drives it home under the noses of the menacing guards. Was Sholem-Aleykhem playing that game, too? **** Date: 1 October 1997 From: Dan Leeson Subject: Some Comments on "The Pair" of Sholem-Aleykhem [Sholem Aleichem] Dan Leeson, Los Altos, CA (where it is somewhat difficult to get the story in the original) Some Comments on "The Pair" of Sholem-Aleykhem [Sholem Aleichem] Reading "The Pair," of Sholem-Aleykhem, I cannot help but wonder if the author was a vegetarian. And I'm serious. This is an aspect of his life about which I know nothing, but the convictions expressed by the story mirror the attitudes of contemporary vegetarians; i.e., "I don't eat anything with a face." Those who maintain this outlook (with which I happen not to be sympathetic) conserve a viewpoint conditioned by a number of core beliefs, the most important of which are: (1) meat-eating has a negative impact on one's health, and (2) the inhumane treatment of dumb animals is unworthy of any compassionate creature; i.e., to a vegetarian, the slaughter of living creatures for food is inhumane. In support of my uninformed opinion about Sholem-Aleykhem's quasi- vegetarianism, one need only ask, "Who are the heroes of this story, and who are the villains"? It takes but a moment to realize that the author himself designated an animal -- i.e., a goose (see post script regarding the animal's identification) -- as the story's hero. And the use of the word "hero" is not wild hyperbole, for the third sentence of the story explicitly uses it in reference to the central character: "The dreams that troubled our hero were violent." So, if the male of the pair of geese who are the centerpiece of this story is the hero, then the only force left to be the miscreants must be the Jews who mistreat these and other animals, who torture them, and finally kill them. (The word "torture" is also not my invention. After the episode of the geese being force fed, the story reads, "Finished with their task, the women went off and the tortured prisoners remained alone.") It is the geese who speak intelligently, with restraint, hope, and a positive attitude. The Jewish woman who has purchased them and who is called "the Turkish shawl," curses everyone; i.e., the man from whom she bought the geese, the children who torment them, the servant girl whose duty it is to force feed them. This woman reminds me of the hateful "witches" of my childhood. On one hand, "Turkish shawl" speaks about the meaning of freedom withing the context of the impending Passover (for which celebration the geese were bought), and, on the other hand, the woman appears to be incapable of generating an ounce of sympathy for anyone, human or animal, and certainly not the geese. The abattoir where the geese are killed is a hideous place, the walls and floor covered with blood. Chickens are described as being dumped in the mud immediately after their throats have been cut, and feathers are ripped from their living bodies. The slaughterer, who should approach his work with the awe it requires, is simply a laborer who goes at it with an uncaring attitude and a total lack of concern for God's creatures. In the end, the geese, having developed an affection for each other, die with their warm throats resting on each other's bodies. They remain, even in death, the only dignified element of this tale. The story is fundamentally anti-people, with only Jews being present to absorb the blame. It would have been essentially the same message had there been no Jews in the story. In effect, the tale's central moral is concern for the less fortunate. If Sholem-Aleykhem was not known to have been a vegetarian, I suggest that this story shows him to have been a closet activist. POST SCRIPT Only after concluding that the animals of the text were geese, was I informed by Leonard Prager that the original Yiddish also fails to identify them. However, Prager believes the animals may be turkeys, his conclusion being based on use of the word _indianer_ 'Indians' which bears a similarity to _indikes_ 'turkeys'. Shlomo Katz's translation of this story not only tolerates but encourages the view that the animals being spoken of are geese. Let me share how this conclusion is reached: 1. there is no word used in Katz's translation by which the animals are specifically identified; 2. when the animals are being tormented by children, a reference is made to their "big noses;" while turkeys have a fold of flesh above the beak that could be so interpreted, the imagery that came to my mind was that of a goose's bill; 3. the female of the pair states that she does not want to be though of a "silly goose or a foolish turkey," so either animal satisfies this imagery; 4. the animals are force fed in chapter 6; while geese are force fed, I have never heard of turkeys so treated; that does not mean they are not, only that I never heard of it; 5. turkeys are notoriously stupid animals while the animals in the story are sensitive, intelligent, soft-spoken, and thoughtful, though naive; the goose's relative, the swan, carries the image of dignity, economy of movement, and intelligence. 6. the poignant conclusion has the animals, in death, lying with their necks on each other's body; while turkey necks are long and could be so described, the neck of a goose is one of its most identifiable features and, thus, my mind went in that direction. I do not suggest that I am correct in my interpretation of the identity of the fowl, but only give the reasons that brought me to the conclusion. **** Date: 1 October 1997 From: Marjorie Schonhaut Hirshan Subject: "Dos porfolk" Revisited Marjorie Schonhaut Hirshan "Dos porfolk" Revisited Although I enjoy intense fiction of affliction, and align myself philosphically on the side of the victim, the beggar, or the underturkey, "Dos porfolk" was not the perfect beach book for summer reading. _Motl Peysi dem khazns_, yes, even _Stempenyu_ with its titular anti-hero, but an inditshke, the fur cap and the Turkish shawl.... At first reading, Shlomo Katz's translation left me seeking the familiar aspects of Sholem-Aleykhem's [Sholem Aleichem's] genius, his unique beloved style of recording the distinctiveness of our people. Here was a story, bizarre and experimental, with no skaz as in "Di eytse;" no rambling monologist as in "Dos tepl;" no dialogue in perfect pitch, the ideal mimicry of common folk speech; no laughter through tears; no introduction "Tsu di lezer" to draw the reader in and embrace him. Vos vil er, der nayer Sholem-Aleykhem? Upon rereading this perfect Gothic tale (it has every element -- horror, evil, terror, cruelty, ghostly visions, groans and screams, and ultimate murder), Sholem-Aleykhem, ever the social critic and secularist, began to emerge. If Perets could liken us to fish, and Mendele use a nag, why not indikes plucked from their homes, brutally thrown into wagons and deported, robbed of their freedom, even tormented by the future generation, why not indikes as symbols of the abuse and oppression Jews suffer? Of exploitation of the weak by the strong, of the poor by the rich -- even in the orthodox methods ordained in ritual slaughter? Then, ah mameloshn, I received the original story with its introduction - a taunting ironic disclaimer. Katz had discarded this opening, thus removing the persona and presence of Sholem-Aleykhem. As I read the original, Sholem-Aleykhem emerged, his blue eyes sparkling, wearing a wry smile, standing and writing at his home-made lectern, deeply questioning man's wild inhumanity to man and where God's demands lead men. Mendele's influence is evident in this flaunting use of satiric introductions, as well as in naming characters to define them as in _Everyman_ morality plays. As Mendele named a deceitful liar, Yitskhok- Volf Spodek, a wolf in a fur cap, Sholem-Aleykhem calls the woman "the Turkish shawl," the woman who "hot zey opgeton oyf Terkish": giving them hope, "freeing" them, feeding them, and then frying them, all in God's name. Also, why did Katz omit the poignant coda, "Di libe un getraye, say baym lebn, say baym toyt hobn zikh nisht gesheydt"? I feel these words are a vessel for Sholem- Aleykhem's private pain and intense effort to remain tied (nisht gesheydt) to the many loved ones he lost. How desperate a life he lived. Add to these deaths -- enduring a cruel, abusive step-mother; adjusting to hunger and poverty; failing in business ventures and in achieving publication; and failing health. Writing was his religion, his healer, and as it soothed him it touched us, moved us, inflamed us, and changed our views as it enriched our lives. *** Date: 1 October 1997 From: Ron Robboy Subject: Newly discovered Kohn-Bloch correspondence [Re: Sholem-Aleykhem's "Dos porfolk"] Ron Robboy >From the newly discovered correspondence of the actor Jacques Kohn and Grete Bloch, another friend of Kafka. Fraulein Grete Bloch Florence, Italy My dear Grete: What a charming surprise! It has been many years. And my goodness, to hear that you saw our Felice in Geneva! How old are her children? I still remember her as Fraulein Bauer, from the time when we were all so intimate. But, ah, forgive me, dearest, for an unfortunate choice of words. Again, I am sorry, as I told you when the little one died. When was that, already fifteen years ago? That I never saw him -- after Budapest, I know you understand, it was more difficult. And Franz and Fraulein Bauer were no longer in communication. But let us speak of happier things. You met the Countess! How did that happen? You offer no details. Nervi: where is this? How did you chance to talk? And to speak of myself! This is a most amusing turn of fate, for though it had been some years since I heard from her, just the other week I was speaking about the Countess with a writer, a promising talent, as we shared a late supper -- he kindly advanced me the cost -- on the night before his departure for America. He asked if I ever hear from her, just as he had asked, likewise over supper, nearly ten years ago. We had been discussing literature -- the Book of Job, Franz' work, the suffering of innocents -- and I chanced to tell him the story of my first meeting with that dear lady, a meeting entirely honorable in its every detail, I assure you, and was in any case none of my doing. Meanwhile, Bamberg, that pathetic has-been, had come to our table and prattled on about allegory, of all things. What a fool! He'd finally read a book of Franz'. I wanted to tell the idiot that Franz did not write shallow symbolism, but I humored him, pretending to be engaged by the depth of his argumentation. He finally stumbled off to put another insipid dance record on the gramophone. What I should have told him is: when they will not tell you why they are arresting you, why they are confining you, it is as though you are guilty simply of being. That can only be a story, a simple story. It is not something that happens in the mundane world. The innocent, the guiltless, they are like the poor Jew in Exile, a mere plaything in a monstrous game. But you know, just as the Jew is cast alone in the world, so does he create his own world. He, too, has his pawns with which he parries the machinations of Fate. Is it all meaningless, this banal evil? One minute you make love, the next you face the slaughterer's knife. There is no rhyme or reason: it could happen here, God forbid, in Warsaw, or even there in Florence, my canny enchantress. And if it happens, is it a feast of liberation? Is it a day of rest? I say it could happen, but we cannot imagine it. We can only test our worthy opponent and make each counter-move in turn. You know, many years ago, I did some readings in Prague -- Perets, Gordin, Mendele Moykher-Sforim -- and I included some sketches of Sholem-Aleykhem. Some were from a newly published Jubilee edition. Franz seemed fascinated by that detail, or perhaps by the occasion, and by the fact that the author had gone to America and then Italy. Or was it Italy and then America? Many were children's stories, and he found them to be "sarcastic." That was the very word he used. Fraulein Bauer, in fact, repeated it to me several years later, when she was doing her brave social works at the Jewish People's Home. She did not come to my performances, I regret to say, and she acted surprised that I would "have the nerve" to come see her. What had you said to her, Grete dear, you sly one? (And I swear, I did not touch her, nor would I, even if she _had_ let me.) Do you remember Max, Franz' earnest friend? He had suggested Sholem-Aleykhem for the children at the Home, but Franz said no, that he was, again, too sarcastic. Just now, I remember having read to Franz another story of Sholem-Aleykhem -- I honestly cannot say what should remind me -- of two people, a man and a woman (were they lovers?), kept and fattened for the Peysekh feast, as though they were plump hens. It was in a pamphlet from Odessa. Franz was transfixed. "Imagine," he kept saying, "innocents transformed without explanation into contemptible animals, as though it were the most natural thing in the world." He tried to tell Fraulein Bauer, but I don't think she ever understood. I trust this finds you in good health, though I cannot say the same for myself. I no longer have the strength to raise funds for theatrical enterprises -- not that the imbecilic public would in any event know how to appreciate the fine wines of Thalia as they did so many years ago in Prague and Budapest -- but I am nevertheless proud of what I have done. I am not proud, to confess a truth to you, of not having seen the child in his lifetime. It occurs to me now, if there is any way that my name or celebrity can honor his memory, or bring some measure of comfort to you in your new circumstances, there is no reason you should not make use of them, brave Grete, even from your new home in faraway Italy. With fondest regards, I remain yours truly, Jacques Kohn. Warsaw, Poland 31 December 1935 **** Date: 1 October 1997 From: Harvey Spiro [daytime email:hjs@nrc.gov] Subject: MURDER MOST FOWL [On Sholem-Aleykhem's "Dos porfolk"] MURDER MOST FOWL Kidnapped. Imprisoned. Bound and sold as if they were slaves or domestic beasts, and routinely humiliated by their wild captors. Murdered in cold blood by religious fanatics in the name of their "angry God." "Dos porfolk" is a disturbing yet entertaining story about "two innocent souls" (umshuldike nefoshes) seized in the middle of the night and ultimately slaughtered "like sheep." For the first two chapters, you know only that two of "God's creatures" (gots bashefenishn), innocent of any crime but their race, are jailed, taunted, and treated like animals. Despite comic relief, and your fear that they are destined for some tragic end, something tells you that all is not as it appears. By chapter six at the latest, even a child will have figured out that the pair of "indianer" are in fact "indiks" (turkeys), and this is a tale of two turkeys being fattened and slaughtered for Peysekh. Or so we are told. The Yiddish version includes two introductions (not found in the English translation). The first simply states the pretext of the story, "wherein two innocent souls were seized ... bound ... sold to wild people ... and then ... slaughtered like sheep." In the second introduction, the author discourages his readers from seeking hidden meanings in his poshete mayse, stating emphatically that the story contains "not even a hint of allegory, nor even a groshen's worth of what one would call symbolism." Why two introductions? And why must Sholem-Aleykhem reassure his readers that this is simply an animal fable, without tricks or ruses (on khokhmes, on oyberkeplekh). After all, this is not a grim tale of a pogrom or a blood libel, but rather a curious -- if macabre -- holiday tale. And if the author carries on the charade of the identity of his heroes long after we realize that the protagonists are, in fact, turkeys, we understand that the fantasy depends on preserving the anthropomorphic language. One possible answer lies in the turmoil experienced by Sholem-Aleykhem -- and Russian Jewry -- during that period. "Dos porfolk" was written in 1909. Six years earlier, the Kishinev pogrom had triggered a period of terror and violence -- Odessa, Zhitomer, Kiev -- for Russian Jewry. The 1905 Constitution (or "kosnetutsiye" as Tevye would say) brought chaos and anarchy throughout the Empire. The annual exodus of Jews from Czarist Russia topped 100,000 in 1904, and stayed above that number for half a decade. Nor was this first decade of the twentieth century a particularly happy one for Sholem-Aleykhem. Although his works were extremely popular, bad contracts with publishers, as well as outright pirating of his works, had left him with few royalties from his many publications. The 1905 pogrom in Kiev prompted him to flee Russia for the west. After touring in Austro-Hungarian Galicia for several months, he spent almost a year in the United States trying to make a living in Yiddish theatre, with disastrous results. Returning to Geneva in the summer of 1907, he borrowed money for the fare. Several months after leaving the U.S., with his family sinking deeper into debt, and his theatrical works still not generating revenues, Sholem-Aleykhem embarked on a speaking tour in Russia. Although the tour was successful for the first few months, he collapsed in 1908 while speaking in Baranovici (Byelorussia). His doctors diagnosed the problem as tuberculosis, and advised him to recuperate in Nervi, Italy, near Genoa. It was in Nervi, in 1909, that "Dos porfolk" was written. The year 1909 began a brief happy and highly productive period in Sholem-Aleykhem's life -- what his daughter Marie Waife-Goldberg called "the good years," in marked contrast to the prior half decade. During these "good years," Sholem-Aleykhem wrote or revised many of his best known stories, including his _Railroad Stories_, _Menakhem Mendl_, _Tevye_ and _Motl_. Although he continued to struggle with his health, two related events eased his financial woes: the recouping of the copyrights to his works, and translation of his works into Russian. Sholem-Aleykhem's works had first appeared in print in 1883, 25 years before his collapse in Baranovici. With the help of a close friend, Moyshe Vaytsman [Moshe Weitzmann] (brother of Israel's first president), the year 1908 was declared a Sholem-Aleykhem literary anniversary. (It was also the writer's 50th birthday.) Picked up by the world Jewish press, celebrations brought many gifts as well as increased demand for his publications. More importantly, pressure on his many publishers by the Warsaw Jewish literary community helped restore to Sholem-Aleykhem the rights to his own works. With copyrights restored and the publication of authorized volumes in Warsaw, Sholem-Aleykhem embarked on a lifetime ambition: to see his works translated into a principal European language. The subsequent translation of twelve volumes of his work into Russian, to generally favorable reviews, both acknowledged Sholem-Aleykhem's standing as a world- class writer, and helped provide a steady revenue stream. Perhaps the ambivalent message in the introduction to "Dos porfolk" was a reflection of the wild swings of fortune that Sholem-Aleykhem, and his fellow Russian Jews, were experiencing. The author's wandering from country to country seemed to have ended, and his newfound financial security allowed him to write and support his family, while enjoying justifiable literary recognition. For his audiences, the worst of the pogroms seemed to be over, as Russian liberalism promised reforms. Jewish immigration to the United States in 1909 was 57,000, only half that of the prior year. But Sholem-Aleykhem understood the tenuousness of Jewish existence. Two years later, Mendl Beylis's trial would be followed by the devastations of World War I to the Jewish heartland, and then by the Russian Revolution and the remainder of this horrible century. For the author, the "good years" were followed by dispersal of his family because of the War, the death of his son, and then his own death. The cryptic introduction to "Dos porfolk" might simply have been fear of the censors. Then again, it might just be Sholem-Aleykhem's way of saying that "doktoyrim heysn lakhn" because, for Jews, it is a "paskudne velt." **** Date: 1 October 1997 From: Sholem Berger Subject: A modner foygl, der Sholem-Aleykhem [on Sholem-Aleykhem's "Dos porfolk"] Sholem Berger A modner foygl, der Sholem-Aleykhem A modner foygl, der Sholem-Aleykhem. Tsum ershtns git er an azhore, az keyn mesholim iz er nisht oysn: "keyn remez fun alegoryes" iz kloymersht nishto in der dertseylung, un "nisht far a groshn ot dos vos vert ongerufn simbolizm." Azoy mit klore diburem . Baym sof ober, ven me farshteyt shoyn az se geyt a reyd vegn feygl -- ot demolt brengt er gor a posek: "Haneehovim vehaneimim bekhayeyhem uvemoysom loy nifrodu -- di libe un getraye, say baym lebn, say baym toyt hobn zikh nisht gesheydt." (zayt 153). Fregt zikh a kashe: vi kumt der posek tsu di indikes? Yo nu, funem loytern siper-hamayse khapt men zikh, az s'iz do epes nisht kosher mit undzere shekhite-tsentrishe yontoyvim -- tsu vos ober darf men dem posek? Efsher vil der mekhaber bloyz tsugebn epes a khoshevn tanakhishn ton? Aza min mekhaber vi Sholem-Aleykhem brengt nisht keyn psukem glat azoy zikh. S'iz dokh nisht keyn khidesh vos in kval fun posek -- Seyfer Shmuel beyz, perek alef -- shtekt a paralel: Dovid Hameylekh vert do gevoyr funem toyt fun Yoynoson mit Shoeln, durkh an amoleker yingl vos hot aleyn avekgeharget Sholen loyt dem tsveytns farlang. Nokh eyder Dovid heybt on klogn, ruft er tsu dos yingl, un shlogt im tsum toyt: "Un Dovid hot tsu im gezogt: Dayn blut af dayn kop! Vorum dayn moyl hot eydes gezogt af dir, azoy tsu zogn: Ikh hob geteyt dem gezalbtn fun got." [targem Yehoyesh] Hayitokhn? Vi azoy ken Dovid entfern af tsvey mordn mit nokh eyn mord? Aleyn vil ikh nisht entfern -- kh'vil nor brengen a vort fun undzers a khoshevn bal-darshn: "Nor eyn zakh kenen zey nisht tsekayen: tsu vos hot di terkishe shal ale mol zikh barimt, az got meg ir helfn...? Ot dos vil got? Dos iz im lib? Akh, vos far a beyzer got dos darf zayn bay ot di vilde mentshn!" ("Dos porfolk," zayt 153) Sholem-Aleykhem brengt dem posek gor bekavone. Oyb der opruf fun Dovid kegn a yingl an amoleki iz shver tsu farshteyn, al-akhes-kame-vekame iz nisht tsu farshteyn dos barimen zikh fun der terkisher shal. Oyb es dakht zikh dem geveyntlekhn leyener, az Dovid iz bagangen a mord an umbarekhtiktn, kal-vokhoymer darf undz oyszen blutik barbarish di keseyderdike shekhite tsu peysekhtsayt. Dovids teyrets iz nisht keyn ibertsaygndiker -- Shoel hot dokh azoyns gebetn baym yingl. Un di hanhoge fun di yidn in "Dos porfolk"? Nokh erger -- keyn teyrets iz bay zey nishto, vayl di indikes zogn dokh keyn eydes af zikh aleyn. Di yidn fun der dertseylung firn zikh oyf bloyz loytn umbatrakhtn ritual, on tsu bamerkn az es tsaplt zey unter dem khalef a lebedike bashefenish vos zol oykh bafrayt vern. Dovid Hameyelekh leygt avek dos amoleker yingl punkt af aza umbatrakhtn oyfn, vayl azoyns hot zikh gefirt beyomem hohem. Der ritual farshpart undz yidn umberakhmonesdik, un dokh -- ven nisht ritual, volt di terkishe shal nisht gehat mit vos zikh tsu barimen. Un barimen zikh darf men a mol, yontoyvim darf men a mol.... Efsher vet men aynzetsn di kashes ven di ale bahaltene taytshn fun der dertseylung veln bafrayt vern. **** Date: 1 October 1997 From: Ariela Krasni