off his butt to help out. Looks like I’m your only hope, brother.”
“I’d say you’re right. It would really help me out if you could show me around. You know these streets better than I do, and if I have to learn it all from scratch we’re going to be completely farkakt —”
“Wait a minute, there’s my master,” said Kral, stepping away and greeting Rabbi Epstein with all due reverence.
Rabbi Epstein told Kral to stop gabbing and get busy responding to a woman’s complaint that her husband was being cruel to her.
“Oh, crap. I hate domestic quarrels,” Kral confided to me.
“Hang on a minute—”
“Sorry, I’ve got to go now. Don’t forget to tell everyone to burn their khumets . See you later,” said Kral, falling in line behind the rabbi as he turned toward the Pinkasgasse.
I watched them go, balling my fists for no reason except that I had finally met someone who could help me navigate the twisted streets of the ghetto, only to have him weave his way right back into the masses of men that made up the vast tapestry of the neighborhood.
The hell with my regular duties. I had to alert Rabbi Loew that the Jews were facing exile, annihilation, or both.
At the sign of the stone lion, I waited for one of the maids to sweep a pile of crumbs into the street, so that I wouldn’t track any forbidden khumets into the newly swept hallway. The Christian girls in the front hall swirled around me in a perfumy maelstrom, and for a moment it felt like my heavy boots were the only things anchoring me to the surface of the globe as I marched between them. If they only knew what was hanging over their heads, I thought—except it wasn’t their heads that would roll, was it? They were all shiksehs .
Just then a man stepped away from the shadows behind a row of long winter cloaks hanging on their pegs. I recognized him as one of the young mystics in Rabbi Loew’s inner circle. His name was Yankev ben Khayim, and he wore the plain black robes of a student.
“Aha, you enter without knocking,” he said. “That shows you are more interested in the World-to-Come than in this world.”
I had gone in and out several times that morning, and had kissed the mezuzah each time. But I didn’t think it mattered if I knocked on the open door.
“Are you like the tsadek who was so pious that he never noticed that his wife was missing a thumb? Unaware of the mystical meaning of your gesture?”
“Yes, that must be it,” I said.
“Ah, you admit your ignorance. That is a good start. Teach your tongue to say ‘I do not know’ instead of inventing some falsehood.”
I said, “Brukhes, folio four A. I’m glad to meet another Talmud scholar, but right now I need to talk to the rabbi.”
“ Brukhes ? Oh, you mean Brokhes . It’s hard to understand you with that poylish accent. Your lack of intellectual conviction tells me that you need to study the wisdom of the Khokhmas Hanister with us.”
He meant the Kabbalah. I needed to start forging some alliances against the forces gathering around us, so I chose my words carefully.
“You’re right about that, my friend. I don’t always get the answers I want from the Talmud, and it’s also true that I mustn’t miss out on this rare opportunity to study the hidden wisdom with the great Maharal. But right now I’ve got to talk to the rabbi about a completely different situation.”
“Something more important than the healing of God’s creation through mystical communion with His endless
“I’d say you’re right. It would really help me out if you could show me around. You know these streets better than I do, and if I have to learn it all from scratch we’re going to be completely farkakt —”
“Wait a minute, there’s my master,” said Kral, stepping away and greeting Rabbi Epstein with all due reverence.
Rabbi Epstein told Kral to stop gabbing and get busy responding to a woman’s complaint that her husband was being cruel to her.
“Oh, crap. I hate domestic quarrels,” Kral confided to me.
“Hang on a minute—”
“Sorry, I’ve got to go now. Don’t forget to tell everyone to burn their khumets . See you later,” said Kral, falling in line behind the rabbi as he turned toward the Pinkasgasse.
I watched them go, balling my fists for no reason except that I had finally met someone who could help me navigate the twisted streets of the ghetto, only to have him weave his way right back into the masses of men that made up the vast tapestry of the neighborhood.
The hell with my regular duties. I had to alert Rabbi Loew that the Jews were facing exile, annihilation, or both.
At the sign of the stone lion, I waited for one of the maids to sweep a pile of crumbs into the street, so that I wouldn’t track any forbidden khumets into the newly swept hallway. The Christian girls in the front hall swirled around me in a perfumy maelstrom, and for a moment it felt like my heavy boots were the only things anchoring me to the surface of the globe as I marched between them. If they only knew what was hanging over their heads, I thought—except it wasn’t their heads that would roll, was it? They were all shiksehs .
Just then a man stepped away from the shadows behind a row of long winter cloaks hanging on their pegs. I recognized him as one of the young mystics in Rabbi Loew’s inner circle. His name was Yankev ben Khayim, and he wore the plain black robes of a student.
“Aha, you enter without knocking,” he said. “That shows you are more interested in the World-to-Come than in this world.”
I had gone in and out several times that morning, and had kissed the mezuzah each time. But I didn’t think it mattered if I knocked on the open door.
“Are you like the tsadek who was so pious that he never noticed that his wife was missing a thumb? Unaware of the mystical meaning of your gesture?”
“Yes, that must be it,” I said.
“Ah, you admit your ignorance. That is a good start. Teach your tongue to say ‘I do not know’ instead of inventing some falsehood.”
I said, “Brukhes, folio four A. I’m glad to meet another Talmud scholar, but right now I need to talk to the rabbi.”
“ Brukhes ? Oh, you mean Brokhes . It’s hard to understand you with that poylish accent. Your lack of intellectual conviction tells me that you need to study the wisdom of the Khokhmas Hanister with us.”
He meant the Kabbalah. I needed to start forging some alliances against the forces gathering around us, so I chose my words carefully.
“You’re right about that, my friend. I don’t always get the answers I want from the Talmud, and it’s also true that I mustn’t miss out on this rare opportunity to study the hidden wisdom with the great Maharal. But right now I’ve got to talk to the rabbi about a completely different situation.”
“Something more important than the healing of God’s creation through mystical communion with His endless
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