THE TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA
THE TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA
Heavens, how stern and pious a Jew this Rabbi Akiba was! Scarcely his peer to be found in all Judea.
He devoted all his days and all his nights to the Holy Law, studying it himself and expounding it to others. The number of his disciples was a veritable army, and whoever heard the Torah from his lips felt that he drank from the very source of life.
Not only did he teach the Torah’s word, but also how to live its very spirit, how to purge oneself of gaiety; for laughter, play and mirth all led to sin.
He, too, dwelt in all simplicity, renouncing every earthly pleasure. He was deeply in love with his wife, the beautiful Rachel, the wise and learned daughter of Kalba-Sabua. But in order to belong entirely to the Torah he even partedfrom his sweet beloved and became an ascetic.
This was a sore burden to him. He longed deeply for his wife, and he was still a man in the very prime of life. In order not to weaken, and to make sure of maintaining this separation and his pious seclusion, he made a vow to himself that he should not return to his wife until he acquired twelve thousand disciples. This he did because he held that an oath was as a wall around holy retirement. He would have to keep his word and his absence from his wife would thus be ensured.
This fortitude, however, caused him to be unrelenting toward every one else. What he could do, all must be able to do. And he demanded of all the strictest abstention from the sins of the flesh, excoriating with barbed words the desire for women in the hearts of men.
Whereupon the weaklings—those who could not withstand the woman-lust in their hearts and were wracked by the sins of the flesh—spoke thus of Akiba:
“Merely because he was able to part fromhis wife is no proof that he is above temptation. Let Satan but approach him in the form of a naked woman and lust will suddenly befall him like an enemy from ambush, and rob him of all his senses, even as a thief robs his victim in the night.”
And they added to their prayers an entreaty that God should lead the Rabbi into such temptation. And, to their own punishment, God heard their prayers.
When Rabbi Akiba left his wife he also left the city in which she dwelt. This he did, not so much from personal choice, lest the proximity of his wife allure him, but rather for her sake, lest his nearness too much affect her. And in order that his wife, in her feminine weakness, should not follow him to the new place in which he intended to settle, he did not for a long time establish himself anywhere, journeying from city to city and from land to land.
And once, in his peregrinations, he came to a land in which remarkable customs and mannersprevailed. One of these customs was to sweeten the nights of the honoured guests with the company of women.
And it happened that when the ruler of this land learned of Rabbi Akiba’s arrival and the importance of his guest, he sent to him for the night two beautiful damsels, the most beautiful in his realms. In the manner of women both beauties did their best to heighten their charms and increase the power of their attraction. They freshened themselves in the bath; the enchanting odour of their youthful bodies they rendered more intoxicating than ever with rare perfumes; they arrayed themselves seductively like brides on the wedding night. And they came to Rabbi Akiba in radiant half-nakedness, with an inviting smile upon their cherry lips, with the fire of passion and voluptuousness in their sparkling eyes.
They knew that they were going to a highly honoured guest, but they didnotknow that they would encounter a very handsome man of gigantic stature. When they beheld him theirpassion flamed still higher, and each tried to display before him the most enticing allurements of her person.
“Come to me,” said one.
“Come to me,” invited the other.
And they passed close to him with their naked bodies, and each praised her person and its charms, and the pleasures it afforded.
“My body is as white as the full moon.”
“And my body is as rosy as the rising sun.”
“In my embrace you will lie as softly as in warm down.”
“And in my arms you will feel the tender warmth of newly-shorn lambs’ wool.”
“The kiss of my lips is like the wine of Damascus.”
“And my lips are like the round grapes in which the sunbeams have chosen their home.”
And thus they continued,—the firmness of their breasts, the velvety softness of their skin, the ravishing delight of their legs, and the intoxication of their tenderness. One wrapped him about with her dark hair; the blondetresses of the other likewise enmeshed him. And with the passing of the hours their lust increased; their naked bodies turned and writhed, wracked and tortured by rising desire.
“Come, take me!” implored the one.
“Come, take me!” panted the other.
But Rabbi Akiba sat between them and—spat. For a whole night he sat between them and spat, looking neither upon one nor the other. He did not try to distract his mind with Torah thoughts, for he did not wish to bring the Torah into the company of two naked women. He simply tried to work himself into a feeling of repulsion, to rouse within him a powerful resistance.
And thus he sat and spat—more vehemently, more impatiently than ever, with rising disgust, with increasing aversion. At last, however, he became calm, indifferent, ice-cold.
At first the two beautiful damsels looked at him in astonishment. Why was he spitting so? Why did he not touch them? Was he a fool? Was he crazy? Were they not beautifulenough? Not young enough? Not passionate enough?
They questioned him; he vouchsafed no reply. Then they were on the point of leaving him, when they looked at him again and saw how handsome he was, and gazed once more into his eyes and saw wisdom itself beaming out of them. Then they forgot his remarkable behaviour, disregarded his incessant spitting, threw their nakedness and the fire of their bodies upon him, and pleaded and begged and groaned, calling to him in their intoxication.
“Takeme!”
“Takeme!”
The whole night passed in this way. In the morning, weary and exhausted, they went to the ruler and complained to him against Rabbi Akiba. In despair, they cried out, “Sooner death than another time with that man!”
The ruler sent for Rabbi Akiba and questioned him.
“Why did you not act toward the women I sent in to you as the sons of man act withwomen? Are they not beautiful? Are they not human, like you? Has not He, who created you, likewise created them?”
If Rabbi Akiba had replied that, in spending the night with them in the manner of the sons of man with woman, he would have committed a sin, then the ruler would surely become angry. Did his hospitality then lead to sin? Was his hospitality an incentive to wrong-doing?
Rabbi Akiba’s wisdom saw this at once, and with an altogether innocent expression he replied, “What could I do? Before they came to me they must surely have eaten impure things, and the odour from them was that of carrion-meat, impurities, reptiles.”
And Rabbi Akiba quickly left this land with its remarkable hospitality, happy in the consciousness that he had overcome the greatest of temptations,—filled with thanks to God for having so wonderfully given strength to his heart.
As the number of his disciples at this time had reached to twelve thousand, and as thewall that separated him from his wife thereby crumbled, he went back to her. As he came to the door of his house he heard a strange woman say to his wife, “Are you happy that your husband is returning after having acquired twelve thousand disciples?”
“I should be still happier,” answered his wife, “if he returned with twenty-four thousand.”
And Rabbi Akiba did not open the door of his house, nor did he go in to his wife. Once again he imposed upon himself separation from his mate, and erected a new wall about himself, with a vow that he should not approach his wife until he acquired four and twenty thousand disciples. And again he left, to wander through cities and lands, to spread the word of God and assemble disciples.
From now on he became more severe than ever in his religious demands, and his condemnations grew harsher. One who, like him, had triumphed over such great temptations, had full right to demand similar continence and willpoweron the part of others. And he was wont to mock, jeer and jest at all who committed a sin.
He had forgotten the saying: “Believe not thyself until the day of thy death.” And in Heaven it was decreed that he should be reminded of it.
One day his travels led him to a beautiful spot, through woods and fields. It was a wonderful day. The sun, midway in the sky, did not burn, but laughed and sang of the splendour of existence, pouring out joy upon the entire land, upon wood and field, upon tree and grass. All the birds and beasts and insects laughed and sang together with it. Rabbi Akiba, filled with the great gladness, forgot the passage of the Torah that was running through his mind and across his lips but a moment before, and could not remove his glance from the sunny splendours that surrounded him.
Suddenly it seemed as if some one had thrust him backward. But it was nobody. It washis own blood, and the blow that he had felt was the throb of his own heart.
Were not his eyes deceiving him? He opened them wide and looked again, intently.
No. His eyes saw clearly. A wondrously beautiful naked girl at the top of a palm tree.
He could not believe his eyes, but there was the girl looking down at him, smiling at him so enticingly, intoxicating him with the pearly whiteness of her teeth.
She was so beautiful and entrancing that the sun had forgot its wedding-procession. It had stopped in its path—this shining star—and had enfolded the maiden’s naked body in its rays, colouring it a rosy red and filling its veins with red wine.
Rabbi Akiba, too, stopped in his path, unable to move from the spot, unable to tear himself away from the dazzling vision. His heart palpitated, his body burned, his tongue became dry. He stood dumbfounded, and could not himself hear how he barely managed to utter, “Who are you?”
And the vision upon the tree laughed seductively down to him.
“Come up and I will tell you.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Come up, and you shall see.”
“Are you gathering dates?”
“What need have I of them? I feed myself and feed others with my own sweetness. Do you not wish to taste it?”
“Why are you naked?”
“So that the sunbeams may enjoy me, and the wind, and the hills, and the valleys, and the heavens, and God.”
“How can you lie there so?”
“I have a couch here made of leaves and branches,—a soft couch for me and for those whom I invite to enjoy me. Soft is my bed and fragrant,—but even softer and more fragrant am I. Will you not feel us?”
And in utter forgetfulness, filled with a single intense desire, Rabbi Akiba approached very close to the tree and scarcely had breath to ask, “How can I get to you?”
The glorious vision uttered a magic laugh.
“Were you, then, never a little boy? What did you do when a tempting apple nodded to you from among the branches of an apple-tree? You removed your clothes, made yourself as light as possible, and climbed up the tree after the beautiful, ripening fruit. Am I less than the fruit? Is it not worth while to climb up after me? Or are you old, and have your bones become hard, and is climbing now beyond your years and your strength? Take off your clothes; you will have no need of them in any case, up here. Make yourself light, and with all the youth that has now been born anew in you, climb up to me....”
Enchanted and intoxicated, as hastily as possible, whipped on by driving impatience, Rabbi Akiba cast off his clothes and seized the trunk of the palm tree, beginning to climb aloft. With his naked hands and feet around the shaggy bark, with his burning eyes riveted upon her above, drinking in her beauty, sucking in the warm ruddiness of her veins. He did notnotice that his skin was being scratched and torn by the bark of the tree, and that blood was beginning to flow over his body. He climbed higher, ever higher.
And her magic eyes drew him on as if with ropes and her fascinating voice was as a guide to him. From between her pearly teeth it poured forth like wine that robbed the senses.
“Come! Co-o-ome! Co-o-ome!”
But when he had climbed half the height of the palm he suddenly came to himself. It was as if a cold wind had icily bedewed him and had blown something away from before his eyes, making him see the complete ludicrousness and unworthiness of his position. He, the renowned Master, teacher and judge among the Jews, climbing, half-naked, up a tall tree, driven and goaded on by lust! He threw himself down, rather than descended, from the tree, rolled himself into a ball at its foot, and burst into bitter tears.
A malicious, mocking voice spoke above him:
“Had it not been decreed in Heaven that youand your Torah should be protected, your life at this moment would not be worth a straw.”
Rabbi Akiba wept more bitterly than ever, striking his breasts and beating his head.
He dressed and continued on his way. The sun no longer shone; heaven and earth were veiled in greyish fog, and the laughter and song of the surrounding scene now ceased. Or perhaps it merely seemed so to him because his heart was bitter and his soul grieved; he looked neither to right nor to left and his ears were deaf to the outer world.
He felt ashamed and debased. And he knew that henceforth he would not mock those who had committed sin.
Now he understood the weakness of man, and how plentifully life was strewn with dangers, and his lips muttered acridly, “All of us here below are even as criminals who are released on bail, and a net of transgression is spread over all existence.”