Raising his piece on high, Moisheh chimed in:
“Good luck and the new life!”
THE LORD GIVETH
One glance at his wife’s tight-drawn mouth warned Reb Ravinsky of the torrent of wrath about to burst over his head.
“Nu, my bread-giver? Did you bring me the rent?” she hurled at him between clenched teeth.
Reb Ravinsky had promised to borrow money that morning to ward off their impending eviction for unpaid rent, but no sooner had he stepped out of his house than all thought of it fled from his mind. Instinctively, he turned to the synagogue where he had remained all day absorbed in the sacred script. It was easier to pray and soar the heights with the prophets of his race than to wrestle with sordid, earthly cares.
“Holy Jew! Why didn’t you stay away a little longer?” She tore at her wig in her fury. “Are you a man like other men? Does your wife or your child lay in your head at all? I got to worry for rent. I got to worry for bread. If you got to eat you eat. If you ain’t got to eat you ain’t hungry. You fill yourself only with high thoughts. You hold yourself only with God. Your wife and your child can be thrown in the street to shame and to laughter. But what do you care? You live only for the next world. You got heaven in your head. The rest of your family can rot in the streets.”
Reb Ravinsky stood mute and helpless under the lash of her tongue. But when she had exhausted her store of abuse, he cast upon her a look of scorn and condemnation.
“Ishah Rah! Evil woman!” he turned upon her like an ancient prophet denouncing ungodliness.
“Ishah Rah!” he repeated. His voice of icy passion sent shivers up and down her spine.