Reb Shemayah at once felt that this visit betokened something unusual. He had often met and conversed with the priest and the burgomaster, singly and together; the one and the other had also been casually within his four walls, but neither had ever visited him formally, and this special visit by the two leading men of the village together he knew must have some particular and unusual reason. He at once determined to reflect ripely on whatever proposition they should make him, and to act upon it in accordance with his best judgment and wisdom. He rose and received them with great politeness; and after they had seated themselves, in accordance with his request, he inquired to what he owed the distinguished honor of their visit. The priest, in view of the deference due to his holy calling, acted as spokesman and explained the mission which had brought them thither.
“We have come, dear Reb Shemayah,” he said, “as a deputation from the church and secular community of Nordheim, to show you how free from prejudice or bigotry our village is, and in particular how greatly we love and honor you. You know, of course, that it is a fixed rule with us never to confer any of the honors connected with the rites and ceremonies of our holy church upon any one but a true believer, in full communion with and good standing in the church; but so greatly do we love and esteem you that we have resolved for your sake to depart from this time-honored and otherwise invariable rule, and to honor you as greatly as we would the best of our true Christian burghers. We have therefore come as a delegation to inform you that you have been selected for the high and solemn office of bearing the Holy Image at the great procession of ——mas next, and at the same time to congratulate you upon this rare honor, which has never yet been attained by any Jew.” Reb Shemayah listened to this smooth speech with external calmness, but with the most violent internal agitation. The priest had understood well his true feelings. His very blood ran cold at the thought of the proffered honor(?). What! he, the scion of a long line of martyrs who had died at the stake rather than prove recreant to the command thundered forth amid Sinai’s flames, “Thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image, or any likeness of anything which is in the heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters beneath the earth; thou shalt not bow down to them nor worship them”; from whose dying lips had issued the cry, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One”—he should march in the procession of an alien cult and himself bear an image for the idolatrous adoration of the multitude! He felt his very soul sicken at the thought. But his keen mind and his shrewd, intuitive perception of the fitness of things helped him out of his difficulty. He missed the note of sincerity in the priest’s smooth words; he noticed that neither his demeanor nor that of his companion, the burgomaster, was exactly such as is characteristic of persons desiring to confer honor upon another; besides, he knew full well how utterly contrary to all Catholic rule and precedent it was to permit heretics to participate in church ceremonials, and he could not conceive that an exception should be made for him, and in a flash the whole devious machinations were revealed to him, and he realized that it was only a cunningly thought-out plot to extort money from him as the price of exemption. He resolved to baffle the ingenious scheme with equal ingenuity, and to give the plotters no opportunity to narrate later on, with vociferous hilarity, how shrewdly they had victimized and blackmailed the Jew. His first step was to express his sense of unworthiness of the proffered honor. “I feel greatly honored, indeed,” he said, “by this proof of the esteem in which my fellow-burghers hold me; but how can I accept such a distinction? I am only a young citizen. There are others, older and better known than I; besides I am not even of your faith. I am a Jew whom you deem an unbeliever; and how, then, can I aspire to an honor which should be conferred only upon a true and undoubted co-religionist of your own?”
“We have considered these things well, Reb Shemayah,” said the priest; “and you need not hesitate to accept the honor on account of them. If we esteem you so much that we are willing to overlook them, surely you need not be troubled on that score at all.”
“But surely you know,” said Reb Shemayah, “that my religion also forbids me to take part in such ceremonies. Judaism teaches me that the fundamental ideas which you solemnly proclaim by your processions and other such observances are not true; and I may not lend my countenance to them by participating personally in services held in recognition and affirmation of them. It is not lawful for me, as a Jew, to adore an image, or to assist in its adoration by others. I am sorry; but, while appreciating, indeed, the high honor you would bestow upon me, I feel that I must decline it as not suitable to one of my faith.”
“My dear Reb Shemayah,” said the priest in a somewhat harsher manner, while the burgomaster sustained him with a threatening shake of the head, “I am sorry to hear you speak thus. Permit me to say that your words are displeasing, not to say offensive. To decline on such grounds the distinguished honor offered you is to scoff at our holy faith; is, indeed, to insult our entire Christian community here in Nordheim. Furthermore, let me remind you that it is a matter of civic obligation, and that it is not feasible for a citizen to decline the honors or refuse the functions which the community may see fit to confer upon him. If such were permitted, our civic honors might go begging and all authority would fall into contempt. You have been selected, as an honored citizen, to take a leading part in a great public ceremony, and it is expected that as a loyal burgher you will overlook your religious scruples and perform your public duty. Both as a Jew, who needs to live in peace with the inhabitants of other faiths, and as a true citizen of this community, we expect, nay we insist, that you will at once declare your willingness to perform the duty assigned to you by the constituted authorities of the community.”
These words made a deep and evident impression upon Reb Shemayah. He was visibly agitated. The choice the priest had given him was a hard one. Either recreancy to his so ardently loved faith, or the disfavor of his fellow-townsmen, and perhaps punishment as a scoffer at the established religion, or a contumacious rejector of civic honors.
The priest and burgomaster gazed at him with triumphant eyes, thinking in their hearts that now they had the Jew on his knees, and that presently he would be begging and pleading for mercy, and offering to do anything or give any amount if only they would release him from the dreaded and abhorred “honor.” The priest was already considering the amount he should ask as the condition of release; and the burgomaster, foreseeing that the unselfish (?) disciple of other-worldliness would want the lion’s share, was resolving in his mind that he would insist on a fair and equitable division of the spoils, share and share alike. But Reb Shemayah had prepared a little surprise for them.
“Your reverence,” he said when the priest had concluded his remarks, “I beg your pardon for my hasty words, uttered without a true comprehension of the importance of the privilege bestowed upon me. Your lucid explanation has fully convinced me that I was in the wrong. I see now that it is my duty as a good citizen to accept with gratitude any duty which the community may assign to me, even if it does not agree with my religion. I accept, therefore, the honor you have conferred upon me, and I desire you to express my thanks to the worthy councilmen for the high privilege which I have received at their hands.”
It was the turn now of the priest and the burgomaster to be agitated. They could hardly believe their ears. Reb Shemayah, the Jew, the heretic, to be the leading figure in the great——mas procession! The thought was horrifying. They realized that their brilliant plan had failed, that the Jew had triumphed, that they had gotten themselves into a pretty pickle out of which they would have vast trouble to extricate themselves; for, of course, Reb Shemayah had not been really invited by the councilmen, and the matter had never been even broached to them by the cunning schemers. They were beaten, disconcerted, crushed. Worst of all, they had to dissemble, to pretend that they were delighted.
“Do I understand you, then, Reb Shemayah,” said the priest, suppressing by a great effort his discomfiture, and forcing his countenance to assume a pleased expression, “you are willing to accept the honor and will bear the image at the procession?” “Yes, your reverence,” answered Reb Shemayah. “Your eloquence has convinced me and induced me to do so.”