From the Heart of Israel: Jewish Tales and Types

by Bernard Drachman

Reb Shemayah and Other Nordheim Worthies.

O sweet Nordheim! Though thy inhabitants, particularly those who professed the ancient faith of Israel, were but few, how numerous, comparatively, were those whose characters for one reason or other were interesting and noteworthy. Let me pass a few of these in review before the eye of the reader before I close this insufficient though veracious chronicle. Without a doubt the most important and significant of these persons was Reb Shemayah. He was my grandfather, although it was not my privilege to behold him in the flesh, for he had passed to the better world some years before my visit to the village. He was a perfect type of the old-time, sincere, loyal, and devout German Jew. He was the son of an old family of high repute and standing, which had been settled in Nordheim for several centuries; and one of his ancestors, whose picture appears in an old village chronicle, had enjoyed the unique distinction of being the only inhabitant who owned a saddle horse. Like all the sons of the better class of Jewish families in former generations he received a thorough training in Hebrew and Talmudic studies. At the Yeshibah in Fulda, to which he had been sent to study rabbinic lore, he attained such distinction by the keenness of his intellect and the rapidity of his progress that the venerable rabbi became warmly attached to him, and declared that he alone should be his successor and his son-in-law, the husband of his youngest daughter.

Just as Reb Shemayah was about to attain the loftiest pinnacle of Jewish ambition in those days, to become a rabbi and to take as his wife the beautiful, dark-eyed daughter of the Fulda Rav, an event occurred which destroyed his hopes in both these regards, but gave occasion for the display of his noble idealism. The Bavarian Government issued a rescript to the effect that in order to wean Jews from the petty forms of trading to which they had hitherto been addicted, and to induce them to take up agriculture, the law prohibiting Jews from owning land, which had been in force for centuries, was repealed, and it would henceforth be permitted them to own and cultivate land, the same as all other citizens.

The beneficent intentions of the new law were evident, but the Jews hesitated to take advantage of it; indeed, they were loath to do so. The centuries of unfamiliarity with agriculture were partly to blame for this reluctance; but then, again, there was also a strong prejudice against the farmer’s vocation, which was considered low and rude and far inferior in social value to that of the merchant or scholar. Reb Shemayah did not share these views. His soul was all aflame with enthusiasm when he heard of the new law which, in his opinion, first put the stamp of real citizenship upon the Jew. Not only did he consider agriculture intrinsically ennobling and the only vocation in consonance with true Jewish, Biblical precepts, but he also held that the landed class are the real foundation of the state, while all others are but floating parasites. When he saw that his brethren were hesitating, and that none appeared willing to purchase land, he determined to give them a good example and himself became a tiller of the soil. He invested his whole fortune in the purchase of a farm near Nordheim, which he himself began actively to cultivate. Thus did Reb Shemayah renounce the rabbinical vocation and become a peasant. It was a tremendous sacrifice to make; but what was worse was that he had to renounce his sweet bride too, for the old Fulda rabbi was obstinate and had no liking for these new things. “A peasant shall not have my daughter,” he said; and though Reb Shemayah loved sweet Miriam well, he loved Israel better, and for the sake of his ideal he sacrificed a piece of his own heart. Encouraged by Reb Shemayah’s example, many other Jews invested in land and endeavored to learn the art of agriculture; and at present Jewish tillers of the soil are no longer rarities.

In the Nordheim community and the entire surrounding country Reb Shemayah enjoyed the highest possible reputation. He was universally loved, respected, revered. And right well did he deserve his high repute, for a character of such singular purity, sweetness, and nobility belongs to the rare things of earth. He was profoundly and exceptionally devout, even for those days when piety and religious strictness were usual and ordinary in Israel. The Torah, the divine law, he considered God’s most precious gift to mankind, and Israel’s mission he held to be to practice this law and to show its excellence to the world; and by lives of utmost virtue and beneficence to be mekaddesh Ha-Shem, i.e., to sanctify the name, and to bring honor and glory to Him whose servants were thus righteous and good. He lived up to his ideal, and his life thus became one long record of kindly words and noble deeds. Jews and Gentiles alike had in him a sincere friend and a trustworthy counsellor, and were equally glad to seek his wise counsel and ready assistance in their hour of need or distress. The Schnorrers had in him a particularly warm sympathizer, so that, after his death, they lamented that Nordheim, although charitable beyond the average, had lost its halo of glory in their eyes. He always believed any tale of woe told him by a suppliant stranger and never wearied of assisting, for the thought of deceit or fraud never entered his guileless mind. The learned wanderer had his especial sympathy, and he would always welcome such a one right royally to his home and listen with kindliest interest to his erudite comments on Biblical or Talmudic passages or new solutions of old difficulties; and after entertaining him with unstinted generosity, would dismiss him laden with blessings in substantial form.

It was not because Reb Shemayah was wealthy that he was able to do all these things, by merely sparing a little from his abundance. On the contrary, he gave thus liberally as a matter of principle, of religious duty, and his charitable gifts often involved great sacrifices on his part. During the greater part of his life he lived in rather straitened circumstances, and rigid economy was necessarily the strict rule of his household. His entire fortune had gone to the purchase of his Bauerngut; and as he was neither a trained agriculturist nor a keen business man, his finances might have fallen into great disorder but for the iron rule he had set up for himself, and from which he never deviated, never to contract debts which he could not see his way clear to pay. In addition to his ordinary difficulties he met with several misfortunes, which would have sufficed to break down the courage of an ordinary man; but his sublime faith enabled him to bear all these trials cheerfully and resignedly, and, like Rabbi Nahum of old, he would repeat whenever any tribulation came upon him: “This also is for good.”

A striking illustration of this trait was given after he had been for quite some years actively engaged in his chosen vocation, had found his chosen life partner, and had already a family of several daughters. In the middle of a bitter winter night a fire suddenly broke out in Reb Shemayah’s dwelling; and, quickly assuming dimensions which rendered it impossible to check it, the family were driven forth half-clad into the icy night. The house was burned to the ground and hardly anything of its contents was saved, but the barn had escaped, and there Reb Shemayah and his nearly frozen wife and family found refuge. There, too, his wife, Perla by name, who had for some time been expecting the advent of a little stranger, gave birth to a beautiful black-eyed boy, the first male child. It was a heartrending conjuncture. His home a mass of smoking ruins in the intense cold of a Bavarian mountain winter, nothing saved but a few quilts and articles of clothing, his family huddled together for refuge in a barn, through the chinks of whose wooden walls the chill blasts blew keenly; and most heartrending of all—to see his dear wife forced to undergo, under such circumstances, the pains and dangers of childbirth. It was a situation which would have broken the courage or destroyed the faith of another man. But Reb Shemayah lifted his eyes to heaven, and in all sincerity and truth uttered the words: “I thank Thee, O Master of the universe, for Thou art good. With one hand Thou smitest, but with the other Thou healest. Thou hast destroyed my habitation, but Thou hast also fulfilled the prayer of my heart and given me a son.” And, indeed, the terror and the suffering were soon over. Kind Jewish neighbors hastened to open their homes to the afflicted family. Neither mother nor child was any the worse for the harsh exposure, and the black-eyed boy became subsequently the Uncle Koppel, whose hospitality I enjoyed. If anything in the whole incident distressed Reb Shemayah keenly, it was the necessity of accepting, if even temporarily, the assistance of others. Himself ever ready to assist the needy, he entertained an intense aversion to receiving himself such assistance.

Though Reb Shemayah was, as we have seen, an ethically noble and exalted character, he was by no means gloomy or austere. On the contrary, he was natural and unaffected in his ways, accessible to every one, dearly fond of a joke, and a capital story-teller. Despite his readiness to accept as true tales of distress, he was, nevertheless, an excellent psychologist, and had no difficulty in thoroughly reading the characters and motives of those with whom he was thrown into contact. This ability once enabled him to baffle an attempt which was made to victimize and blackmail him, and to turn it into a humorous triumph for him.

Nordheim, as regards the majority of its inhabitants, was an intensely Catholic village. The feasts and fasts of the church were celebrated there with great pomp and unction, and the numerous religious processions were particularly solemn and, according to rural standards, magnificent. In these the Jewish inhabitants, of course, took no part, and, indeed, usually remained secluded in their houses during their continuance. For this there were several reasons. The Jews being, from the Catholic standpoint, heretics and unbelievers, were eo ipso excluded from participation in these Christian solemnities; and their presence in the streets on such occasions was apt, even in these more tolerant times, to rouse the slumbering embers of religious animosity and bigotry. Besides, the Jews themselves, warm adherents of their own monotheistic creed, would rather have suffered martyrdom than to have participated in practices which they looked upon as closely akin to idolatrous.

Shortly after Reb Shemayah had become a Nordheim peasant and citizen, the village priest who happened at the time to be presiding over the spiritual affairs of the community conceived what appeared to him a most brilliant idea, by means of which he believed he could press a substantial contribution out of the learned and pious new Jewish householder. A great holiday of the church was approaching—the indulgent reader will kindly excuse the author for his ignorance of Catholic theology, which prevents him from specifically stating which one it was—of the celebration of which a particularly great and splendid procession was the leading feature. In this procession substantially all the Gentile villagers took part, and at its head a splendid effigy of the crucified one was borne. The office of carrying the image was performed by a citizen especially selected by the priest and burgomaster conjointly with the council; and to be chosen for this duty was deemed a high honor, and was eagerly coveted by the good Christian burghers of Nordheim. Our priest’s idea was as follows: The honor of carrying the image should be bestowed, with flattering words and honeyed compliments, upon Reb Shemayah as a prominent and universally respected citizen of the village. Of course the cunning ecclesiastic did not seriously mean that Reb Shemayah should actually perform the office, for it was entirely out of the question that any Jew, however worthy, should actually take a leading part in the solemn ceremonies of the church; but our worthy theologian knew well that the aversion of the Jews to participating in such observances was even greater than the disinclination of the Christians to permit them so to do, and he had no fear that Reb Shemayah would, under any circumstances, consent. What he imagined would happen was that Reb Shemayah, on being informed of his selection for the honorable task of image-bearer, would decline the honor on the ground that his religion did not permit him to participate in such functions; and when he would be further informed that it was not possible for a citizen to refuse an honor to which he had been duly appointed by the constituted authorities, would beg and implore to be let off, and would finally offer a good round sum to be released. This sum, after various difficulties and objections, would be graciously accepted as a mark of special favor, and thus the little comedy would find a pleasant and profitable end. Filled with this splendid idea for “spoiling the Egyptians” this time in the form of a Hebrew, the priest hastened to the burgomaster and confided his plan to him. That worthy, also, not at all averse to having a little innocent sport and gaining some filthy lucre from the unbelieving Jew, at once gave the plan his most hearty approval, and it was resolved to put it forthwith into execution. Accordingly Reb Shemayah was astounded that evening, when sitting in his room resting after the labors of the day, to hear first a resounding knock with the old-fashioned knocker on his front door and afterward from the lips of his Perla, who had gone to answer the summons, and who returned with an expression of amazement not unmingled with anxiety upon her face, the words, “The priest and the burgomaster are here and desire to see you.”