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The Rabbi's Son

Jacob Goldstein
May 1932

When I first made his acquaintance, he was fifteen. It was a strange coincidence that brought us together, in spite of the fact that we lived in entirely different surroundings. His father was an orthodox rabbi in a village in the Carpathian Mountains, and my mother was a public school teacher in Warsaw, Poland. Probably we should never have met except for the following incident. My mother and I used to go every year to some summer place during school vacation, On that particular summer, about seven years ago, we went for a vacation to the above village, famous for its delightful, healthy air, enormous pine-forests and beautiful landscapes. A few days after my arrival my curiosity was aroused by crowds of people that frequently visited the neighboring villa. I soon discovered that it was occupied by an orthodox rabbi who was considered a miracle man by many of his faithful admirers. I was only nine at that time, without any knowledge of the orthodox spheres. No wonder then, that this new discovery deeply impressed me. I decided to watch what was going on in the villa, by looking through the fence. In warm weather the rabbi, with his sons, used to sit in the shadow of a tree or walk around, and I had ample opportunity to observe them. My attention was especially attracted by the rabbi's younger son, Nehemia. He was tall enough for his fifteen years, had bright, blue eyes, a high forehead, two long curls hanging down on both sides of his head, and a long, pale face covered with a little growing blond beard. He wore a velvet cap, a long silk-coat, white stockings, and half-shoes. Nehemia never came in touch with the outside world, and never played with boys. All day long he used either to study the Talmud, pray, or walk around by himself absorbed in thought. On Friday evenings, I would steal unnoticed into the rabbi's villa and look into the little synagogue filled with people. Nehemia stood besides his father praying in religious ecstasy following the cantor with his young, sweet voice. Many times I was anxious to approach him and talk to him, but didn't dare to do so, because he seemed inaccessible to plain mortals.

Finally, however, this problem was solved in a simple way. It appeared that Nehemia also stole frequently into our villa, attracted by the sound of my violin, which I used to practice everyday. I imagine that my playing, at that time, must have been far from brilliant, but to Nehemia, who had never heard an instrument before, every tone seemed quite a revelation. Little by little we got acquainted, though in fact, it was very hard for us to lead a conversation, because he knew little Polish, and I couldn't express myself in Yiddish. Judging from the way he behaved and spoke, I got the impression that he was born to be a rabbi and would never come in contact with practical life. In September of that year we left the village and I forgot all about him.

Seven years passed, and circumstances brought me and my parents to America. Last October our rooms had to be painted, and on a certain Monday about eight o'clock in the morning a young man with brush and paint came in and started to do his work. I was hurrying to school and didn't pay much attention to him. Nor did my mother, who had to go downtown. When I came home about one o'clock, the man was painting the dining-room. I went to the bedroom and started to practice the violin. The young man, evidently attracted by my playing, interrupted his work, and stood at the door listening. I soon felt his persistent gaze, and then our eyes met. He recognized me at once, but it took me quite a long while to refresh my memory and to realize that it was the same boy whom I had met in the Carpathian Mountains seven years before. The boy was completely transfigured, and I recognized him only by the noble line that adorned his forehead and eyes.

In a wonderful, fluent English he told me his unusually interesting story. Soon after we had left the village in the mountains his father had died, and his older brother had become the rabbi. Without the spiritual support of his beloved father, Nehemia felt lonesome and forsaken, and a fear for the future made him restless. It suddenly dawned upon him that he was young and vigorous, and that it was necessary for him to do things and not spend his life in mere dreams. He then communicated with his uncle in America, who took him over to this country. Here he went to school, and was very successful in his studies.

Two years ago, after he had graduated from high-school, his uncle lost his fortune, and Nehemia came face to face with hard reality. It was necessary to make a living, but at the same time he didn't want to give up studying. He took up apartment painting, and in the evening he attended college. The aim of his life, he says, is to become a teacher.

Because he had to struggle so hard for his own education, he loves to teach others. He hopes that his efforts will be crowned with success.

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