In Schnipishock, Reb Ravinsky had been a porush, a pensioned scholar. The Jews of the village so deeply appreciated his learning and piety that they granted him an allowance, so as to free the man of God from all earthly cares.
Arrived in the new world, he soon learned that there was no honoured pension forthcoming to free him from the world of the flesh. For a time he eked out a bare living by teaching Hebrew to private scholars. But the opening of the Free Hebrew Schools resulted in the loss of most of his pupils.
He had been chosen by God to spread the light of the Torah—and a living must come to him, somehow, somewhere, if he only served faithfully.
In the meantime, how glorious it was to suffer hunger and want, even shame and derision, yet rise through it all as Job had risen and proclaim to the world: “I know that my Redeemer liveth!”
Reb Ravinsky was roused from his ecstasy by his wife’s loud sobbing. Thrust out from the haven of his Torah, he closed the book and began to pace the floor.
“Can fire and water go together? Neither can godliness and an easy life. If you have eyes of flesh and are blind, should I fall into your blindness? You care only for what you can put in your mouth or wear on your back; I struggle for the life that is together with God!”
“My rent—have you my rent? I warned you!” The landlord pushed through the half-open door flaunting his final dispossess notice under Reb Ravinsky’s nose. “I got orders to put you out,” he gloated, as he motioned to his men to proceed with the eviction.
Reb Ravinsky gripped the back of a chair for support.
“Oi-i-i! Black is me! Bitter is me!” groaned his wife, leaning limply against the wall.