BONTZYESHWEIG35(BONTZYE THESILENT)DOWN here, in this world, Silent Bontzye’s death made no impression at all. Ask any one you like who Bontzye was, how he lived, and what he died of; whether of heart failure, or whether his strength gave out, or whether his back broke under a heavy load, and they won’t know. Perhaps, after all, he died of hunger.Bontzye lived quietly and died quietly. He passed through our world like a shadow. He lived like a little dun-coloured grain of sand on the sea-shore, among millions of his kind; and when the wind lifted him and blew him over to the other side of the sea, nobody noticed it. When he was alive, the mud in the street preserved no impression of his feet; after his death the wind overturned the little board on his grave. The grave-digger’s wife found it a long way off from the spot, and boiled a potful of potatoes over it. Three days after that, the grave-digger had forgotten where he had laid him.A shadow! His likeness remained photographed in nobody’s brain, in nobody’s heart; not a trace of him remained.‘No kith, no kin!’ He lived and died alone.Had the world been less busy, some one might have remarked that Bontzye (also a human being) went about with two extinguished eyes and fearfully hollow cheeks; that even when he had no load on hisshoulders his head drooped earthward as though, while yet alive, he were looking for his grave. When they carried Bontzye into the hospital, his corner in the underground lodging was soon filled—there were ten of his like waiting for it, and they put it up for auction among themselves. When they carried him from the hospital bed to the dead-house, there were twenty poor sick persons waiting for the bed. When he had been taken out of the dead-house, they brought in twenty bodies from under a building that had fallen in. Who knows how long he will rest in his grave? Who knows how many are waiting for the little plot of ground?A quiet birth, a quiet life, a quiet death, and a quieter burial.But it was not so in the Other World. There Bontzye’s death made a great impression.The blast of the great Messianic Shofar sounded through all the seven heavens; Bontzye Shweig has left the earth! The largest angels with the broadest wings flew about and told one another; Bontzye Shweig is to take his seat in the Heavenly Academy! In Paradise there was a noise and a joyful tumult: Bontzye Shweig! Just fancy! Bontzye Shweig!Little child-angels with sparkling eyes, gold thread-work wings, and silver slippers, ran delightedly to meet him. The rustle of the wings, the clatter of the little slippers, and the merry laughter of the fresh, rosy mouths, filled all the heavens and reached to the Throne of Glory. Abraham our father stood in the gate, his right hand stretched out with a hearty greeting, and a sweet smile lit up his old face.What are they wheeling through heaven? Two angels are pushing a golden arm-chair into Paradise for Bontzye Shweig.What flashed so brightly? They were carrying past a gold crown set with precious stones all for Bontzye Shweig.‘Before the decision of the Heavenly Court has been given?’ ask the saints, not quite without jealousy. ‘Oh’, reply the angels, ‘that will be a mere formality. Even the prosecutor won’t say a word against Bontzye Shweig. The case will not last five minutes.’ Just consider! Bontzye Shweig!All this time, Bontzye, just as in the other world, was too frightened to speak. He is sure it is all a dream, or else simply a mistake. He dared not raise his eyes, lest the dream should vanish, lest he should wake up in some cave full of snakes and lizards. He was afraid to speak, afraid to move, lest he should be recognized and flung into the pit. He trembles and does not hear the angels’ compliments, does not see how they dance round him, makes no answer to the greeting of Abraham our father, and when he is led into the presence of the Heavenly Court he does not even wish it ‘Good morning!’ He is beside himself with terror. ‘Who knows what rich man, what rabbi, what saint, they take me for? He will come—and that will be the end of me!’ His terror is such, he never even hears the president call out: ‘The case of Bontzye Shweig!’ adding, as he hands the deeds to the advocate, ‘Read, but make haste!’The whole hall goes round and round in Bontzye’s eyes; there is a rushing in his ears. And throughthe rushing he hears more and more clearly the voice of the advocate,speakingsweetly as a violin.‘His name’, he hears, ‘fitted him like the dress made for a slender figure by the hand of an artist-tailor.’‘What is he talking about?’ wondered Bontzye, and he heard an impatient voice break in with: ‘No similes, please!’‘He never’, continued the advocate, ‘was heard to complain of either God or man; there was never a flash of hatred in his eye; he never lifted it with a claim on heaven.’Still Bontzye does not understand, and once again the hard voice interrupts: ‘No rhetoric, please!’‘Job gave way—this one was more unfortunate.’‘Facts, dry facts.’‘He kept silent’, the advocate went on, ‘even when his mother died and he was given a stepmother at thirteen years old—a serpent, a vixen.’‘Can they mean me after all?’ thought Bontzye.‘No insinuations against a third party’, said the president, angrily.‘She grudged him every mouthful—stale, mouldy bread, tendons instead of meat—and she drank coffee with cream.’‘Keep to the subject’, ordered the president.‘She grudged him everything but her finger-nails, and his black and blue body showed through the holes in his torn and fusty clothes. Winter time, in the hardest frost, he had to chop wood for her, barefoot in the yard; and his hands were too young and too weak, the logs too thick, the hatchet too blunt. But he kept silent, even to his father.’‘To that drunkard?’ laughs the accuser, and Bontzye feels cold in every limb.‘And always alone’, he continued; ‘no playmates, no school, nor teaching of any kind—never a whole garment—never a free moment.’‘Facts, please!’ reminded the president.‘He kept silent even later, when his father seized him by the hair in a fit of drunkenness and flung him out into the street on a snowy winter’s night. He quietly picked himself up out of the snow and ran whither his feet carried him. He kept silent all the way to the great town—however hungry he might be, he only begged with his eyes. Bathed in a cold sweat, crushed under heavy loads, his empty stomach convulsed with hunger—he kept silent. Bespattered with mud, spat at, driven with his load off the pavement and into the road among the cabs, carts, and tramways, looking death in the eyes every moment. He never calculated the difference between other people’s lot and his own—he kept silent. And he never insisted loudly on his pay; he stood in the doorway like a beggar, with a dog-like pleading in his eyes—‘Come again later!’ and he went like a shadow to come again later, and beg for his wage more humbly than before. He kept silent even when they cheated him of part, or threw in a false coin.‘He took everything in silence.’‘They mean me after all’, thought Bontzye.‘Once’, continued the advocate, after a sip of water, ‘a change came into his life: there came flying along a carriage on rubber tires, drawn by two runaway horses. The driver already lay somedistance off on the pavement with a cracked skull, the terrified horses foamed at the mouth, sparks shot from their hoofs, their eyes shone like fiery lamps on a winter’s night—and in the carriage, more dead than alive, sat a man.‘And Bontzye stopped the horses. And the man he had saved was a charitable Jew who was not ungrateful. He put the dead man’s whip into Bontzye’s hands, and Bontzye became a coachman. More than that, he was provided with a wife. And Bontzye kept silent!’‘Me, they mean me!’ Bontzye assured himself again, and yet had not the courage to give a glance at the Heavenly Court.He listens to the advocate further:‘He kept silent also when his protector became bankrupt and did not pay him his wages. He kept silent when his wife ran away from him.’‘Me, they mean me!’ Now he is sure of it.‘He kept silent even’, began the angelic advocate once more in a still softer and sadder voice, ‘when the same philanthropist paid all his creditors their due but him—and even when (riding once again in a carriage with rubber tires and fiery horses) he knocked Bontzye down and drove over him. He kept silent even in the hospital, where one may cry out. He kept silent when the doctor would not come to his bedside without being paid fifteen kopeks, and when the attendant demanded another five—for changing his linen.‘He kept silent in the death struggle—silent in death.‘Not a word against God; not a word against men!‘Dixi!’Once more Bontzye trembled all over. He knew that after the advocate comes the prosecutor. Who knows what he will say? Bontzye himself remembered nothing of his life. Even in the other world he forgot every moment what had happened in the one before. The advocate had recalled everything to his mind. Who knows what the prosecutor will not remind him of?‘Gentlemen’, begins the prosecutor, in a voice biting and acid as vinegar—but he breaks off.‘Gentlemen’, he begins again, but his voice is milder, and a second time he breaks off.Then from out the same throat comes in a voice that is almost gentle: ‘Gentlemen! He was silent! I will be silent too!’There is a hush—and there sounds in front a new, soft, trembling voice: ‘Bontzye, my child!’ It speaks like a harp. ‘My dear child, Bontzye!’And Bontzye’s heart melts within him. Now he would lift up his eyes, but they are blinded with tears; he never felt such sweet emotion before. ‘My child! Bontzye!’—no one, since his mother died, had spoken to him with such words in such a voice.‘My child’, continues the presiding judge, ‘you have suffered and kept silent; there is no whole limb, no whole bone in your body without a scar, without a wound, not a fibre of your soul that has not bled—and you kept silent. There they did not understand. Perhaps you yourself did not know that you mighthave cried out, and that at your cry the walls of Jericho would have shaken and fallen. You yourself knew nothing of your hidden power.‘In the other world your silence was not understood, but that is the World of Delusion; in the World of Truth you will receive your reward. The Heavenly Court will not judge you; the Heavenly Court will not pass sentence on you; they will not apportion you a reward. Take what you will! Everything is yours.’Bontzye looks up for the first time. He is dazzled; everything shines and flashes and streams with light.‘Taki—really?’ he asks, shyly.‘Yes, really!’ answers the presiding judge, with decision; ‘really, I tell you, everything is yours; everything in heaven belongs to you. Because all that shines and sparkles is only the reflection of your hidden goodness, a reflection of your soul. You only take of what is yours.’‘Taki?’ asks Bontzye again, this time in a firmer voice.‘Taki!taki! taki!’ they answer from all sides.‘Well, if it is so’, Bontzye smiles, ‘I would like to have every day, for breakfast, a hot roll with fresh butter.’The Court and the angels looked down, a little ashamed; the prosecutor laughed.J. L. PERETZ, 1894.(Trans.Helena Frank.)
DOWN here, in this world, Silent Bontzye’s death made no impression at all. Ask any one you like who Bontzye was, how he lived, and what he died of; whether of heart failure, or whether his strength gave out, or whether his back broke under a heavy load, and they won’t know. Perhaps, after all, he died of hunger.
Bontzye lived quietly and died quietly. He passed through our world like a shadow. He lived like a little dun-coloured grain of sand on the sea-shore, among millions of his kind; and when the wind lifted him and blew him over to the other side of the sea, nobody noticed it. When he was alive, the mud in the street preserved no impression of his feet; after his death the wind overturned the little board on his grave. The grave-digger’s wife found it a long way off from the spot, and boiled a potful of potatoes over it. Three days after that, the grave-digger had forgotten where he had laid him.
A shadow! His likeness remained photographed in nobody’s brain, in nobody’s heart; not a trace of him remained.
‘No kith, no kin!’ He lived and died alone.
Had the world been less busy, some one might have remarked that Bontzye (also a human being) went about with two extinguished eyes and fearfully hollow cheeks; that even when he had no load on hisshoulders his head drooped earthward as though, while yet alive, he were looking for his grave. When they carried Bontzye into the hospital, his corner in the underground lodging was soon filled—there were ten of his like waiting for it, and they put it up for auction among themselves. When they carried him from the hospital bed to the dead-house, there were twenty poor sick persons waiting for the bed. When he had been taken out of the dead-house, they brought in twenty bodies from under a building that had fallen in. Who knows how long he will rest in his grave? Who knows how many are waiting for the little plot of ground?
A quiet birth, a quiet life, a quiet death, and a quieter burial.
But it was not so in the Other World. There Bontzye’s death made a great impression.
The blast of the great Messianic Shofar sounded through all the seven heavens; Bontzye Shweig has left the earth! The largest angels with the broadest wings flew about and told one another; Bontzye Shweig is to take his seat in the Heavenly Academy! In Paradise there was a noise and a joyful tumult: Bontzye Shweig! Just fancy! Bontzye Shweig!
Little child-angels with sparkling eyes, gold thread-work wings, and silver slippers, ran delightedly to meet him. The rustle of the wings, the clatter of the little slippers, and the merry laughter of the fresh, rosy mouths, filled all the heavens and reached to the Throne of Glory. Abraham our father stood in the gate, his right hand stretched out with a hearty greeting, and a sweet smile lit up his old face.
What are they wheeling through heaven? Two angels are pushing a golden arm-chair into Paradise for Bontzye Shweig.
What flashed so brightly? They were carrying past a gold crown set with precious stones all for Bontzye Shweig.
‘Before the decision of the Heavenly Court has been given?’ ask the saints, not quite without jealousy. ‘Oh’, reply the angels, ‘that will be a mere formality. Even the prosecutor won’t say a word against Bontzye Shweig. The case will not last five minutes.’ Just consider! Bontzye Shweig!
All this time, Bontzye, just as in the other world, was too frightened to speak. He is sure it is all a dream, or else simply a mistake. He dared not raise his eyes, lest the dream should vanish, lest he should wake up in some cave full of snakes and lizards. He was afraid to speak, afraid to move, lest he should be recognized and flung into the pit. He trembles and does not hear the angels’ compliments, does not see how they dance round him, makes no answer to the greeting of Abraham our father, and when he is led into the presence of the Heavenly Court he does not even wish it ‘Good morning!’ He is beside himself with terror. ‘Who knows what rich man, what rabbi, what saint, they take me for? He will come—and that will be the end of me!’ His terror is such, he never even hears the president call out: ‘The case of Bontzye Shweig!’ adding, as he hands the deeds to the advocate, ‘Read, but make haste!’
The whole hall goes round and round in Bontzye’s eyes; there is a rushing in his ears. And throughthe rushing he hears more and more clearly the voice of the advocate,speakingsweetly as a violin.
‘His name’, he hears, ‘fitted him like the dress made for a slender figure by the hand of an artist-tailor.’
‘What is he talking about?’ wondered Bontzye, and he heard an impatient voice break in with: ‘No similes, please!’
‘He never’, continued the advocate, ‘was heard to complain of either God or man; there was never a flash of hatred in his eye; he never lifted it with a claim on heaven.’
Still Bontzye does not understand, and once again the hard voice interrupts: ‘No rhetoric, please!’
‘Job gave way—this one was more unfortunate.’
‘Facts, dry facts.’
‘He kept silent’, the advocate went on, ‘even when his mother died and he was given a stepmother at thirteen years old—a serpent, a vixen.’
‘Can they mean me after all?’ thought Bontzye.
‘No insinuations against a third party’, said the president, angrily.
‘She grudged him every mouthful—stale, mouldy bread, tendons instead of meat—and she drank coffee with cream.’
‘Keep to the subject’, ordered the president.
‘She grudged him everything but her finger-nails, and his black and blue body showed through the holes in his torn and fusty clothes. Winter time, in the hardest frost, he had to chop wood for her, barefoot in the yard; and his hands were too young and too weak, the logs too thick, the hatchet too blunt. But he kept silent, even to his father.’
‘To that drunkard?’ laughs the accuser, and Bontzye feels cold in every limb.
‘And always alone’, he continued; ‘no playmates, no school, nor teaching of any kind—never a whole garment—never a free moment.’
‘Facts, please!’ reminded the president.
‘He kept silent even later, when his father seized him by the hair in a fit of drunkenness and flung him out into the street on a snowy winter’s night. He quietly picked himself up out of the snow and ran whither his feet carried him. He kept silent all the way to the great town—however hungry he might be, he only begged with his eyes. Bathed in a cold sweat, crushed under heavy loads, his empty stomach convulsed with hunger—he kept silent. Bespattered with mud, spat at, driven with his load off the pavement and into the road among the cabs, carts, and tramways, looking death in the eyes every moment. He never calculated the difference between other people’s lot and his own—he kept silent. And he never insisted loudly on his pay; he stood in the doorway like a beggar, with a dog-like pleading in his eyes—‘Come again later!’ and he went like a shadow to come again later, and beg for his wage more humbly than before. He kept silent even when they cheated him of part, or threw in a false coin.
‘He took everything in silence.’
‘They mean me after all’, thought Bontzye.
‘Once’, continued the advocate, after a sip of water, ‘a change came into his life: there came flying along a carriage on rubber tires, drawn by two runaway horses. The driver already lay somedistance off on the pavement with a cracked skull, the terrified horses foamed at the mouth, sparks shot from their hoofs, their eyes shone like fiery lamps on a winter’s night—and in the carriage, more dead than alive, sat a man.
‘And Bontzye stopped the horses. And the man he had saved was a charitable Jew who was not ungrateful. He put the dead man’s whip into Bontzye’s hands, and Bontzye became a coachman. More than that, he was provided with a wife. And Bontzye kept silent!’
‘Me, they mean me!’ Bontzye assured himself again, and yet had not the courage to give a glance at the Heavenly Court.
He listens to the advocate further:
‘He kept silent also when his protector became bankrupt and did not pay him his wages. He kept silent when his wife ran away from him.’
‘Me, they mean me!’ Now he is sure of it.
‘He kept silent even’, began the angelic advocate once more in a still softer and sadder voice, ‘when the same philanthropist paid all his creditors their due but him—and even when (riding once again in a carriage with rubber tires and fiery horses) he knocked Bontzye down and drove over him. He kept silent even in the hospital, where one may cry out. He kept silent when the doctor would not come to his bedside without being paid fifteen kopeks, and when the attendant demanded another five—for changing his linen.
‘He kept silent in the death struggle—silent in death.
‘Not a word against God; not a word against men!
‘Dixi!’
Once more Bontzye trembled all over. He knew that after the advocate comes the prosecutor. Who knows what he will say? Bontzye himself remembered nothing of his life. Even in the other world he forgot every moment what had happened in the one before. The advocate had recalled everything to his mind. Who knows what the prosecutor will not remind him of?
‘Gentlemen’, begins the prosecutor, in a voice biting and acid as vinegar—but he breaks off.
‘Gentlemen’, he begins again, but his voice is milder, and a second time he breaks off.
Then from out the same throat comes in a voice that is almost gentle: ‘Gentlemen! He was silent! I will be silent too!’
There is a hush—and there sounds in front a new, soft, trembling voice: ‘Bontzye, my child!’ It speaks like a harp. ‘My dear child, Bontzye!’
And Bontzye’s heart melts within him. Now he would lift up his eyes, but they are blinded with tears; he never felt such sweet emotion before. ‘My child! Bontzye!’—no one, since his mother died, had spoken to him with such words in such a voice.
‘My child’, continues the presiding judge, ‘you have suffered and kept silent; there is no whole limb, no whole bone in your body without a scar, without a wound, not a fibre of your soul that has not bled—and you kept silent. There they did not understand. Perhaps you yourself did not know that you mighthave cried out, and that at your cry the walls of Jericho would have shaken and fallen. You yourself knew nothing of your hidden power.
‘In the other world your silence was not understood, but that is the World of Delusion; in the World of Truth you will receive your reward. The Heavenly Court will not judge you; the Heavenly Court will not pass sentence on you; they will not apportion you a reward. Take what you will! Everything is yours.’
Bontzye looks up for the first time. He is dazzled; everything shines and flashes and streams with light.
‘Taki—really?’ he asks, shyly.
‘Yes, really!’ answers the presiding judge, with decision; ‘really, I tell you, everything is yours; everything in heaven belongs to you. Because all that shines and sparkles is only the reflection of your hidden goodness, a reflection of your soul. You only take of what is yours.’
‘Taki?’ asks Bontzye again, this time in a firmer voice.
‘Taki!taki! taki!’ they answer from all sides.
‘Well, if it is so’, Bontzye smiles, ‘I would like to have every day, for breakfast, a hot roll with fresh butter.’
The Court and the angels looked down, a little ashamed; the prosecutor laughed.
J. L. PERETZ, 1894.(Trans.Helena Frank.)
THE WATCH ON THEJORDAN36(ZIONISTHYMN)LIKE the crash of the thunderWhich splitteth asunderThe flame of the cloud,On our ears ever fallingA voice is heard callingFrom Zion aloud.‘Let your spirits’ desiresFor the land of your siresEternally burn;From the foe to deliverOur own holy river,To Jordan return.’Where the soft-flowing streamMurmurs low as in dreamThere set we our watch!Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;By Jordan then set we our watch.Rest in peace, lovéd land,For we rest not, but stand,Off-shaken our sloth.When the bolts of war rattle,To shirk not the battleWe make thee our oath.As we hope for a heaven,Thy chains shall be riven,Thine ensign unfurled.And in pride of our raceWe will fearlessly faceThe might of the world.When our trumpet is blown,And our standard is flown,Then set we our watch!Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;By Jordan then set we our watch.Yea, as long as there beBirds in air, fish in sea,And blood in our veins;And the lions in might,Leaping down from the height,Shaking, roaring, their manes;And the dew nightly laves,The forgotten old gravesWhere Judah’s sires sleep;We swear, who are living,To rest not in striving,To pause not to weep.Let the trumpet be blown,Let the standard be flown,Now set we our watch;Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;In Jordan now set we our watch.N. H. IMBER.(Trans.I. Zangwill.)
LIKE the crash of the thunderWhich splitteth asunderThe flame of the cloud,On our ears ever fallingA voice is heard callingFrom Zion aloud.‘Let your spirits’ desiresFor the land of your siresEternally burn;From the foe to deliverOur own holy river,To Jordan return.’Where the soft-flowing streamMurmurs low as in dreamThere set we our watch!Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;By Jordan then set we our watch.Rest in peace, lovéd land,For we rest not, but stand,Off-shaken our sloth.When the bolts of war rattle,To shirk not the battleWe make thee our oath.As we hope for a heaven,Thy chains shall be riven,Thine ensign unfurled.And in pride of our raceWe will fearlessly faceThe might of the world.When our trumpet is blown,And our standard is flown,Then set we our watch!Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;By Jordan then set we our watch.Yea, as long as there beBirds in air, fish in sea,And blood in our veins;And the lions in might,Leaping down from the height,Shaking, roaring, their manes;And the dew nightly laves,The forgotten old gravesWhere Judah’s sires sleep;We swear, who are living,To rest not in striving,To pause not to weep.Let the trumpet be blown,Let the standard be flown,Now set we our watch;Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;In Jordan now set we our watch.N. H. IMBER.(Trans.I. Zangwill.)
LIKE the crash of the thunderWhich splitteth asunderThe flame of the cloud,On our ears ever fallingA voice is heard callingFrom Zion aloud.‘Let your spirits’ desiresFor the land of your siresEternally burn;From the foe to deliverOur own holy river,To Jordan return.’Where the soft-flowing streamMurmurs low as in dreamThere set we our watch!Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;By Jordan then set we our watch.Rest in peace, lovéd land,For we rest not, but stand,Off-shaken our sloth.When the bolts of war rattle,To shirk not the battleWe make thee our oath.As we hope for a heaven,Thy chains shall be riven,Thine ensign unfurled.And in pride of our raceWe will fearlessly faceThe might of the world.When our trumpet is blown,And our standard is flown,Then set we our watch!Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;By Jordan then set we our watch.Yea, as long as there beBirds in air, fish in sea,And blood in our veins;And the lions in might,Leaping down from the height,Shaking, roaring, their manes;And the dew nightly laves,The forgotten old gravesWhere Judah’s sires sleep;We swear, who are living,To rest not in striving,To pause not to weep.Let the trumpet be blown,Let the standard be flown,Now set we our watch;Our watchword, ‘The swordOf our land and our Lord’;In Jordan now set we our watch.N. H. IMBER.(Trans.I. Zangwill.)
LIKE the crash of the thunder
Which splitteth asunder
The flame of the cloud,
On our ears ever falling
A voice is heard calling
From Zion aloud.
‘Let your spirits’ desires
For the land of your sires
Eternally burn;
From the foe to deliver
Our own holy river,
To Jordan return.’
Where the soft-flowing stream
Murmurs low as in dream
There set we our watch!
Our watchword, ‘The sword
Of our land and our Lord’;
By Jordan then set we our watch.
Rest in peace, lovéd land,
For we rest not, but stand,
Off-shaken our sloth.
When the bolts of war rattle,
To shirk not the battle
We make thee our oath.
As we hope for a heaven,
Thy chains shall be riven,
Thine ensign unfurled.
And in pride of our race
We will fearlessly face
The might of the world.
When our trumpet is blown,
And our standard is flown,
Then set we our watch!
Our watchword, ‘The sword
Of our land and our Lord’;
By Jordan then set we our watch.
Yea, as long as there be
Birds in air, fish in sea,
And blood in our veins;
And the lions in might,
Leaping down from the height,
Shaking, roaring, their manes;
And the dew nightly laves,
The forgotten old graves
Where Judah’s sires sleep;
We swear, who are living,
To rest not in striving,
To pause not to weep.
Let the trumpet be blown,
Let the standard be flown,
Now set we our watch;
Our watchword, ‘The sword
Of our land and our Lord’;
In Jordan now set we our watch.
N. H. IMBER.(Trans.I. Zangwill.)
THE TRAGEDY OF ASSIMILATIONWHAT I understand by assimilation is loss of identity. It is this kind of assimilation, with the terrible consequences indicated, that I dread most—even more than pogroms.Itisa tragedy to see a great, ancient people, distinguished for its loyalty to its religion, and its devotion to its sacred Law, losing thousands every day by the mere process of attrition. Itisa tragedy to see a language held sacred by all the world, in which Holy Writ was composed, which served as the depository of Israel’s greatest and best thoughts, doomed to oblivion. Itisa tragedy to see the descendants of those who revealed religion to the world, and who developed the greatest religious literature in existence, so little familiar with real Jewish thought that they have no other interpretation to offer of Israel’s Scriptures, Israel’s religion, and Israel’s ideals and aspirations and hopes, than those suggested by their natural opponents, slavishly following their opinions, copying their phrases, and repeating their catchwords. I am not accusing anybody. I am only stating facts. We are helpless spectators of the Jewish soul wasting away before our very eyes.Now, the rebirth of Israel’s national consciousness and the revival of Judaism are inseparable. When Israel found itself, it found its God. When Israel lost itself, or began to work at its self-effacement, it was sure to deny its God. The selection of Israel,the indestructibility of God’s covenant with Israel, the immortality of Israel as a nation, and the final restoration of Israel to Palestine, where the nation will live a holy life, on holy ground, with all the wide-reaching consequences of the conversion of humanity, and the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth—all these are the common ideals and the common ideas that permeate the whole of Jewish literature extending over nearly four thousand years.S. SCHECHTER, 1906.THERE has been one short period in modern Jewish history when Israel grew utterly weary of toil and trouble, and began to take pleasure in the fleeting hour, as other nations do. But this was a mere passing phase, a temporary loss of consciousness. The prophetic spirit cannot be crushed, except for a time. It comes to life again, and masters the Prophet in his own despite. So, too, the prophetic People regained consciousness in its own despite. The Spirit that called Moses thousands of years ago and sent him on his mission, against his own will, now calls again the generation of to-day, saying, ‘And that which cometh into your mind shall not be at all; in that ye say, We will be as the nations ... As I live, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty hand ... will I be king over you.’ACHADHA’AM, 1904.(Trans.Leon Simon.)
WHAT I understand by assimilation is loss of identity. It is this kind of assimilation, with the terrible consequences indicated, that I dread most—even more than pogroms.
Itisa tragedy to see a great, ancient people, distinguished for its loyalty to its religion, and its devotion to its sacred Law, losing thousands every day by the mere process of attrition. Itisa tragedy to see a language held sacred by all the world, in which Holy Writ was composed, which served as the depository of Israel’s greatest and best thoughts, doomed to oblivion. Itisa tragedy to see the descendants of those who revealed religion to the world, and who developed the greatest religious literature in existence, so little familiar with real Jewish thought that they have no other interpretation to offer of Israel’s Scriptures, Israel’s religion, and Israel’s ideals and aspirations and hopes, than those suggested by their natural opponents, slavishly following their opinions, copying their phrases, and repeating their catchwords. I am not accusing anybody. I am only stating facts. We are helpless spectators of the Jewish soul wasting away before our very eyes.
Now, the rebirth of Israel’s national consciousness and the revival of Judaism are inseparable. When Israel found itself, it found its God. When Israel lost itself, or began to work at its self-effacement, it was sure to deny its God. The selection of Israel,the indestructibility of God’s covenant with Israel, the immortality of Israel as a nation, and the final restoration of Israel to Palestine, where the nation will live a holy life, on holy ground, with all the wide-reaching consequences of the conversion of humanity, and the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth—all these are the common ideals and the common ideas that permeate the whole of Jewish literature extending over nearly four thousand years.
S. SCHECHTER, 1906.
THERE has been one short period in modern Jewish history when Israel grew utterly weary of toil and trouble, and began to take pleasure in the fleeting hour, as other nations do. But this was a mere passing phase, a temporary loss of consciousness. The prophetic spirit cannot be crushed, except for a time. It comes to life again, and masters the Prophet in his own despite. So, too, the prophetic People regained consciousness in its own despite. The Spirit that called Moses thousands of years ago and sent him on his mission, against his own will, now calls again the generation of to-day, saying, ‘And that which cometh into your mind shall not be at all; in that ye say, We will be as the nations ... As I live, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty hand ... will I be king over you.’
ACHADHA’AM, 1904.(Trans.Leon Simon.)
THE VALLEY OF DRY BONESTHE hand of the Lord was upon me, and the Lord carried me out in a spirit, and set me down in the midst of the valley, and it was full of bones; and He caused me to pass by them round about, and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry. And He said unto me: ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ And I answered: ‘O Lord God, Thou knowest’. Then he said unto me: ‘Prophesy over these bones, and say unto them: O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord: Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the Lord.’ So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a commotion, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. And I beheld, and, lo, there were sinews upon them, and flesh came up, and skin covered them above; but there was no breath in them. Then said He unto me: ‘Prophesy unto the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath: Thus saith the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.’ So I prophesied as He commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great host. Then He said unto me: ‘Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel; behold, they say: Our bones are dried up, andour hope is lost: we are clean cut off. Therefore prophesy, and say unto them: Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I will open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, O My people; and I will bring you into the Land of Israel. And ye shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, and caused you to come up out of your graves, O My people. And I will put My spirit in you, and ye shall live, and I will place you in your own land; and ye shall know that I the Lord have spoken, and performed it, saith the Lord.’EZEKIEL37. 1–14.
THE hand of the Lord was upon me, and the Lord carried me out in a spirit, and set me down in the midst of the valley, and it was full of bones; and He caused me to pass by them round about, and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry. And He said unto me: ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ And I answered: ‘O Lord God, Thou knowest’. Then he said unto me: ‘Prophesy over these bones, and say unto them: O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord: Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the Lord.’ So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a commotion, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. And I beheld, and, lo, there were sinews upon them, and flesh came up, and skin covered them above; but there was no breath in them. Then said He unto me: ‘Prophesy unto the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath: Thus saith the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.’ So I prophesied as He commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great host. Then He said unto me: ‘Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel; behold, they say: Our bones are dried up, andour hope is lost: we are clean cut off. Therefore prophesy, and say unto them: Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I will open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, O My people; and I will bring you into the Land of Israel. And ye shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, and caused you to come up out of your graves, O My people. And I will put My spirit in you, and ye shall live, and I will place you in your own land; and ye shall know that I the Lord have spoken, and performed it, saith the Lord.’
EZEKIEL37. 1–14.
PALESTINETHE very name Palestine stirs within us the most elevated sentiments. There is no country, no matter how important in itself, to which such sublime memories attach themselves. From our earliest youth, our imagination, nourished on the sacred traditions of the Hebrew Scriptures, loves to transport itself to those heights where of old pious souls heard in each echo the voice of God, where each stone is a symbol of divine revelation, each ruin a monument of divine anger. The followers of three religions turn with veneration towards these ruins of 2,000 years. All find consolation in that land, some by its memories, others by its hopes. Even sceptics are ready to render historic justice to the great events of which it was the theatre: thus the description of this land and its story have a palpitating interest for all.S. MUNK, 1863.
THE very name Palestine stirs within us the most elevated sentiments. There is no country, no matter how important in itself, to which such sublime memories attach themselves. From our earliest youth, our imagination, nourished on the sacred traditions of the Hebrew Scriptures, loves to transport itself to those heights where of old pious souls heard in each echo the voice of God, where each stone is a symbol of divine revelation, each ruin a monument of divine anger. The followers of three religions turn with veneration towards these ruins of 2,000 years. All find consolation in that land, some by its memories, others by its hopes. Even sceptics are ready to render historic justice to the great events of which it was the theatre: thus the description of this land and its story have a palpitating interest for all.
S. MUNK, 1863.
THE LAST CORPSES IN THE DESERTUP, wanderers in the wild, and come away!Long is the journey yet and long the fray.Enough of roving now in desert places—There lies a great, wide road before your faces.But forty years of wandering have sped,And yet we leave six hundred thousand dead.Dishonoured let them lie, across the packThey bore from out of Egypt on their back.Sweet be their dreams of garlic and of leek,Of flesh-pots wide, of fatty steam and reek.Around the last dead slave, maybe to-night,The desert wind with desert beast shall fight,And joyously to-morrow’s dawning shineUpon the firstlings of a mighty line,And lest the sands with all their sleepers start,Let each man’s footfall sound but in his heart.Let each man in his heart hear God’s voice say:‘A new land’s border shalt thou cross to-day!‘No more the quails from heav’n, no more light bread—The bread of toil, fruit of the hands, instead.‘No more wild tents pitched under heaven’s dome—Another kind shall ye set up for home.‘Beneath His sky, the wilderness outside,God has another world that reaches wide,‘Beyond the howling desert with its sand,There waits beneath His stars the Promised Land.’CH. N. BYALIK, 1896.(Trans.Helena Frank.)
UP, wanderers in the wild, and come away!Long is the journey yet and long the fray.Enough of roving now in desert places—There lies a great, wide road before your faces.But forty years of wandering have sped,And yet we leave six hundred thousand dead.Dishonoured let them lie, across the packThey bore from out of Egypt on their back.Sweet be their dreams of garlic and of leek,Of flesh-pots wide, of fatty steam and reek.Around the last dead slave, maybe to-night,The desert wind with desert beast shall fight,And joyously to-morrow’s dawning shineUpon the firstlings of a mighty line,And lest the sands with all their sleepers start,Let each man’s footfall sound but in his heart.Let each man in his heart hear God’s voice say:‘A new land’s border shalt thou cross to-day!‘No more the quails from heav’n, no more light bread—The bread of toil, fruit of the hands, instead.‘No more wild tents pitched under heaven’s dome—Another kind shall ye set up for home.‘Beneath His sky, the wilderness outside,God has another world that reaches wide,‘Beyond the howling desert with its sand,There waits beneath His stars the Promised Land.’CH. N. BYALIK, 1896.(Trans.Helena Frank.)
UP, wanderers in the wild, and come away!Long is the journey yet and long the fray.Enough of roving now in desert places—There lies a great, wide road before your faces.But forty years of wandering have sped,And yet we leave six hundred thousand dead.Dishonoured let them lie, across the packThey bore from out of Egypt on their back.Sweet be their dreams of garlic and of leek,Of flesh-pots wide, of fatty steam and reek.Around the last dead slave, maybe to-night,The desert wind with desert beast shall fight,And joyously to-morrow’s dawning shineUpon the firstlings of a mighty line,And lest the sands with all their sleepers start,Let each man’s footfall sound but in his heart.Let each man in his heart hear God’s voice say:‘A new land’s border shalt thou cross to-day!‘No more the quails from heav’n, no more light bread—The bread of toil, fruit of the hands, instead.‘No more wild tents pitched under heaven’s dome—Another kind shall ye set up for home.‘Beneath His sky, the wilderness outside,God has another world that reaches wide,‘Beyond the howling desert with its sand,There waits beneath His stars the Promised Land.’CH. N. BYALIK, 1896.(Trans.Helena Frank.)
UP, wanderers in the wild, and come away!
Long is the journey yet and long the fray.
Enough of roving now in desert places—
There lies a great, wide road before your faces.
But forty years of wandering have sped,
And yet we leave six hundred thousand dead.
Dishonoured let them lie, across the pack
They bore from out of Egypt on their back.
Sweet be their dreams of garlic and of leek,
Of flesh-pots wide, of fatty steam and reek.
Around the last dead slave, maybe to-night,
The desert wind with desert beast shall fight,
And joyously to-morrow’s dawning shine
Upon the firstlings of a mighty line,
And lest the sands with all their sleepers start,
Let each man’s footfall sound but in his heart.
Let each man in his heart hear God’s voice say:
‘A new land’s border shalt thou cross to-day!
‘No more the quails from heav’n, no more light bread—
The bread of toil, fruit of the hands, instead.
‘No more wild tents pitched under heaven’s dome—
Another kind shall ye set up for home.
‘Beneath His sky, the wilderness outside,
God has another world that reaches wide,
‘Beyond the howling desert with its sand,
There waits beneath His stars the Promised Land.’
CH. N. BYALIK, 1896.(Trans.Helena Frank.)
ZIONISMONE thing is to me certain, high above any doubt: the movement will continue. I know not when I shall die, but Zionism will never die.THEODORHERZL, 1898.ZIONISM is the lineal heir of the attachment to Zion which led the Babylonian exiles under Zerubbabel to rebuild the Temple, and which flamed up in the heroic struggle of the Maccabees against Antiochus Epiphanes. The idea that it is a set-back of Jewish history is a controversial fiction. The great bulk of the Jewish people have throughout their history remained faithful to the dream of a restoration of their national life in Judea.The Zionist movement is to-day the greatest popular movement that Jewish history has ever known.LUCIENWOLF, 1910,in Encyclopaedia Britannica.ALL over the world Jews are resolved that our common Judaism shall not be crushed out by short-sighted fanatics for local patriotism; and, in so far as Zionism strengthens this sense of the solidarity of our common Judaism, we are all Zionists.I. ABRAHAMS, 1905.
ONE thing is to me certain, high above any doubt: the movement will continue. I know not when I shall die, but Zionism will never die.
THEODORHERZL, 1898.
ZIONISM is the lineal heir of the attachment to Zion which led the Babylonian exiles under Zerubbabel to rebuild the Temple, and which flamed up in the heroic struggle of the Maccabees against Antiochus Epiphanes. The idea that it is a set-back of Jewish history is a controversial fiction. The great bulk of the Jewish people have throughout their history remained faithful to the dream of a restoration of their national life in Judea.
The Zionist movement is to-day the greatest popular movement that Jewish history has ever known.
LUCIENWOLF, 1910,in Encyclopaedia Britannica.
ALL over the world Jews are resolved that our common Judaism shall not be crushed out by short-sighted fanatics for local patriotism; and, in so far as Zionism strengthens this sense of the solidarity of our common Judaism, we are all Zionists.
I. ABRAHAMS, 1905.
THE BRITISH DECLARATION ONPALESTINE37NOVEMBER2, 1917—APRIL24, 1920ENGLAND, great England, whose gaze sweeps over all the seas—free England—will understand and sympathize with the aims and aspirations of Zionism.THEODORHERZL, 1900.FOR the first time since the days of Cyrus, a great Government has hailed the Jews as one among the family of nations. This is much more than a Jewish triumph. It is a triumph for civilization and for humanity. It will mean releasing for mankind, as a great spiritual force, the soul of our people.JEWISHCHRONICLE,NOVEMBER9, 1917.ALAND focuses a people, and calls forth, as nothing else can, its spiritual potentialities. The resurrection of the Jewish nation on its own soil will reopen its sacred fountains of creative energy. Remember the days of old. After the proclamation issued by Cyrus, the mass of the Jewish people still remained in Babylon. All told only 42,000 men, women, and children took advantage of the king’sproclamation and followed Ezra back to Zion, the land of their fathers. But compare the contribution to civilization made by these men with that of their brethren who remained in the Dispersion. The handful of ‘Zionists’ and their descendants, because living on their own soil, changed the entire future of mankind. They edited and collected the Prophets, wrote some of the fairest portions of the Scriptures, formed the canon of the Bible, and gave the world its monotheistic religions. As in the days of Cyrus, the overwhelming majority of Jews of to-day will continue to live where they now are, praying and working in absolute loyalty for the land of their birth or adoption, and ever beholding their peace in its welfare. Only a remnant shall return. But it is the national rejuvenation of that remnant that will open a new chapter in the annals of the human spirit.J. H. HERTZ, 1917.FOR millions of poor and hundreds of thousands of prosperous JewsMr.Balfour’s announcement had the serene sound of a long-expected Messianic message. The day that witnessed Great Britain’s decision to stake the whole of the Empire’s power in the Jewish cause is one which can never be blotted out from the world’s history.MAXIMILIANHARDEN, 1917.
ENGLAND, great England, whose gaze sweeps over all the seas—free England—will understand and sympathize with the aims and aspirations of Zionism.
THEODORHERZL, 1900.
FOR the first time since the days of Cyrus, a great Government has hailed the Jews as one among the family of nations. This is much more than a Jewish triumph. It is a triumph for civilization and for humanity. It will mean releasing for mankind, as a great spiritual force, the soul of our people.
JEWISHCHRONICLE,NOVEMBER9, 1917.
ALAND focuses a people, and calls forth, as nothing else can, its spiritual potentialities. The resurrection of the Jewish nation on its own soil will reopen its sacred fountains of creative energy. Remember the days of old. After the proclamation issued by Cyrus, the mass of the Jewish people still remained in Babylon. All told only 42,000 men, women, and children took advantage of the king’sproclamation and followed Ezra back to Zion, the land of their fathers. But compare the contribution to civilization made by these men with that of their brethren who remained in the Dispersion. The handful of ‘Zionists’ and their descendants, because living on their own soil, changed the entire future of mankind. They edited and collected the Prophets, wrote some of the fairest portions of the Scriptures, formed the canon of the Bible, and gave the world its monotheistic religions. As in the days of Cyrus, the overwhelming majority of Jews of to-day will continue to live where they now are, praying and working in absolute loyalty for the land of their birth or adoption, and ever beholding their peace in its welfare. Only a remnant shall return. But it is the national rejuvenation of that remnant that will open a new chapter in the annals of the human spirit.
J. H. HERTZ, 1917.
FOR millions of poor and hundreds of thousands of prosperous JewsMr.Balfour’s announcement had the serene sound of a long-expected Messianic message. The day that witnessed Great Britain’s decision to stake the whole of the Empire’s power in the Jewish cause is one which can never be blotted out from the world’s history.
MAXIMILIANHARDEN, 1917.
JUDAISM AND THE NEW JUDEAITHE return to Zion must be preceded by our return to Judaism.THEODORHERZL, 1897.ISRAEL is a nation by reason only of his religion, by his possession of the Torah.SAADYAHGAON, 933.ISRAEL, to the Rabbis at least, is not a nation by virtue of race or of certain peculiar political combinations. The brutal Torah-less nationalism promulgated in certain quarters would have been to them just as hateful as the suicidal Torah-less universalism preached in other quarters. And if we could imagine for a moment Israel giving up its allegiance to God, its Torah, and its divine institution, the Rabbis would be the first to sign its death warrant as a nation.S. SCHECHTER, 1909.WE will return to Zion as we went forth, bringing back the faith we carried away with us.MORDECAIM. NOAH, 1824.
THE return to Zion must be preceded by our return to Judaism.
THEODORHERZL, 1897.
ISRAEL is a nation by reason only of his religion, by his possession of the Torah.
SAADYAHGAON, 933.
ISRAEL, to the Rabbis at least, is not a nation by virtue of race or of certain peculiar political combinations. The brutal Torah-less nationalism promulgated in certain quarters would have been to them just as hateful as the suicidal Torah-less universalism preached in other quarters. And if we could imagine for a moment Israel giving up its allegiance to God, its Torah, and its divine institution, the Rabbis would be the first to sign its death warrant as a nation.
S. SCHECHTER, 1909.
WE will return to Zion as we went forth, bringing back the faith we carried away with us.
MORDECAIM. NOAH, 1824.
IIISRAEL’S contribution to the common treasure of humanity will ever be primarily religious. Wide sympathy, ready help, and absolute self-determination must therefore be accorded in the New Judea to Jewish religious learning, Jewish religious institutions, and Jewish religious life. They alone contain the secret of Israel’s immortality. The story of Israel’s ancient kinsmen—Moab, Ammon, Edom—though these remained on their own soil, loses itself in the sands of the desert, while the story of Israel issues in eternity. Why? Israel alone had the Torah, and it is that which endowed him with deathlessness. And Israel will remain deathless—as long as Israel continues to cling to the Torah. Without the Torah, Israel’s story will also lose itself in the sands of the desert,even on its own soil.The New Judea must be the spiritual descendant of old Judea, and the mission of Judea, new or old, is first of all to be Judea.J. H. HERTZ, 1918.ILIKE to think of Jewish History as standing ever at the centre point of its path—having as much to look forward to as to look back upon; and the events of to-day, with their special message to Israel, must surely fortify us in this view, and speed us to make good our efforts for our people and for the nations.A. EICHHOLZ, 1917.
ISRAEL’S contribution to the common treasure of humanity will ever be primarily religious. Wide sympathy, ready help, and absolute self-determination must therefore be accorded in the New Judea to Jewish religious learning, Jewish religious institutions, and Jewish religious life. They alone contain the secret of Israel’s immortality. The story of Israel’s ancient kinsmen—Moab, Ammon, Edom—though these remained on their own soil, loses itself in the sands of the desert, while the story of Israel issues in eternity. Why? Israel alone had the Torah, and it is that which endowed him with deathlessness. And Israel will remain deathless—as long as Israel continues to cling to the Torah. Without the Torah, Israel’s story will also lose itself in the sands of the desert,even on its own soil.
The New Judea must be the spiritual descendant of old Judea, and the mission of Judea, new or old, is first of all to be Judea.
J. H. HERTZ, 1918.
ILIKE to think of Jewish History as standing ever at the centre point of its path—having as much to look forward to as to look back upon; and the events of to-day, with their special message to Israel, must surely fortify us in this view, and speed us to make good our efforts for our people and for the nations.
A. EICHHOLZ, 1917.