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.”
Reb Shemayah at once felt that this visit betokened something unusual.
He had often met and conversed with the priest and the burgomaster,
singly and together; the one and the other had also been casually within
his four walls, but neither had ever visited him formally, and this
special visit by the two leading men of the village together he knew
must have some particular and unusual reason. He at once determined to
reflect ripely on whatever proposition they should make him, and to act
upon it in accordance with his best judgment and wisdom. He rose and
received them with great politeness; and after they had seated
themselves, in accordance with his request, he inquired to what he owed
the distinguished honor of their visit. The priest, in view of the
deference due to his holy calling, acted as spokesman and explained the
mission which had brought them thither.
“We have come, dear Reb Shemayah,” he said, “as a deputation from the
church and secular community of Nordheim, to show you how free from
prejudice or bigotry our village is, and in particular how greatly we
love and honor you. You know, of course, that it is a fixed rule with us
never to confer any of the honors connected with the rites and
ceremonies of our holy church upon any one but a true believer, in full
communion with and good standing in the church; but so greatly do we
love and esteem you that we have resolved for your sake to depart from
this time-honored and otherwise invariable rule, and to honor you as
greatly as we would the best of our true Christian burghers. We have
therefore come as a delegation to inform you that you have been selected
for the high and solemn office of bearing the Holy Image at the great
procession of ——mas next, and at the same time to congratulate you upon
this rare honor, which has never yet been attained by any Jew.” Reb
Shemayah listened to this smooth speech with external calmness, but with
the most violent internal agitation. The priest had understood well his
true feelings. His very blood ran cold at the thought of the proffered
_honor_(?). What! he, the scion of a long line of martyrs who had died
at the stake rather than prove recreant to the command thundered forth
amid Sinai’s flames, “Thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image,
or any likeness of anything which is in the heaven above, or in the
earth beneath, or in the waters beneath the earth; thou shalt not bow
down to them nor worship them”; from whose dying lips had issued the
cry, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One”—he should march
in the procession of an alien cult and himself bear an image for the
idolatrous adoration of the multitude! He felt his very soul sicken at
the thought. But his keen mind and his shrewd, intuitive perception of
the fitness of things helped him out of his difficulty. He missed the
note of sincerity in the priest’s smooth words; he noticed that neither
his demeanor nor that of his companion, the burgomaster, was exactly
such as is characteristic of persons desiring to confer honor upon
another; besides, he knew full well how utterly contrary to all Catholic
rule and precedent it was to permit heretics to participate in church
ceremonials, and he could not conceive that an exception should be made
for him, and in a flash the whole devious machinations were revealed to
him, and he realized that it was only a cunningly thought-out plot to
extort money from him as the price of exemption. He resolved to baffle
the ingenious scheme with equal ingenuity, and to give the plotters no
opportunity to narrate later on, with vociferous hilarity, how shrewdly
they had victimized and blackmailed the Jew. His first step was to
express his sense of unworthiness of the proffered honor. “I feel
greatly honored, indeed,” he said, “by this proof of the esteem in which
my fellow-burghers hold me; but how can I accept such a distinction? I
am only a young citizen. There are others, older and better known than
I; besides I am not even of your faith. I am a Jew whom you deem an
unbeliever; and how, then, can I aspire to an honor which should be
conferred only upon a true and undoubted co-religionist of your own?”
“We have considered these things well, Reb Shemayah,” said the priest;
“and you need not hesitate to accept the honor on account of them. If we
esteem you so much that we are willing to overlook them, surely you need
not be troubled on that score at all.”
“But surely you know,” said Reb Shemayah, “that my religion also forbids
me to take part in such ceremonies. Judaism teaches me that the
fundamental ideas which you solemnly proclaim by your processions and
other such observances are not true; and I may not lend my countenance
to them by participating personally in services held in recognition and
affirmation of them. It is not lawful for me, as a Jew, to adore an
image, or to assist in its adoration by others. I am sorry; but, while
appreciating, indeed, the high honor you would bestow upon me, I feel
that I must decline it as not suitable to one of my faith.”
“My dear Reb Shemayah,” said the priest in a somewhat harsher manner,
while the burgomaster sustained him with a threatening shake of the
head, “I am sorry to hear you speak thus. Permit me to say that your
words are displeasing, not to say offensive. To decline on such grounds
the distinguished honor offered you is to scoff at our holy faith; is,
indeed, to insult our entire Christian community here in Nordheim.
Furthermore, let me remind you that it is a matter of civic obligation,
and that it is not feasible for a citizen to decline the honors or
refuse the functions which the community may see fit to confer upon him.
If such were permitted, our civic honors might go begging and all
authority would fall into contempt. You have been selected, as an
honored citizen, to take a leading part in a great public ceremony, and
it is expected that as a loyal burgher you will overlook your religious
scruples and perform your public duty. Both as a Jew, who needs to live
in peace with the inhabitants of other faiths, and as a true citizen of
this community, we expect, nay we insist, that you will at once declare
your willingness to perform the duty assigned to you by the constituted
authorities of the community.”
These words made a deep and evident impression upon Reb Shemayah. He was
visibly agitated. The choice the priest had given him was a hard one.
Either recreancy to his so ardently loved faith, or the disfavor of his
fellow-townsmen, and perhaps punishment as a scoffer at the established
religion, or a contumacious rejector of civic honors.
The priest and burgomaster gazed at him with triumphant eyes, thinking
in their hearts that now they had the Jew on his knees, and that
presently he would be begging and pleading for mercy, and offering to do
anything or give any amount if only they would release him from the
dreaded and abhorred “honor.” The priest was already considering the
amount he should ask as the condition of release; and the burgomaster,
foreseeing that the unselfish (?) disciple of other-worldliness would
want the lion’s share, was resolving in his mind that he would insist on
a fair and equitable division of the spoils, share and share alike. But
Reb Shemayah had prepared a little surprise for them.
“Your reverence,” he said when the priest had concluded his remarks, “I
beg your pardon for my hasty words, uttered without a true comprehension
of the importance of the privilege bestowed upon me. Your lucid
explanation has fully convinced me that I was in the wrong. I see now
that it is my duty as a good citizen to accept with gratitude any duty
which the community may assign to me, even if it does not agree with my
religion. I accept, therefore, the honor you have conferred upon me, and
I desire you to express my thanks to the worthy councilmen for the high
privilege which I have received at their hands.”
It was the turn now of the priest and the burgomaster to be agitated.
They could hardly believe their ears. Reb Shemayah, the Jew, the
heretic, to be the leading figure in the great——mas procession! The
thought was horrifying. They realized that their brilliant plan had
failed, that the Jew had triumphed, that they had gotten themselves into
a pretty pickle out of which they would have vast trouble to extricate
themselves; for, of course, Reb Shemayah had not been really invited by
the councilmen, and the matter had never been even broached to them by
the cunning schemers. They were beaten, disconcerted, crushed. Worst of
all, they had to dissemble, to pretend that they were delighted.
“Do I understand you, then, Reb Shemayah,” said the priest, suppressing
by a great effort his discomfiture, and forcing his countenance to
assume a pleased expression, “you are willing to accept the honor and
will bear the image at the procession?” “Yes, your reverence,” answered
Reb Shemayah. “Your eloquence has convinced me and induced me to do so.”
“Such being the case,” answered the priest, “we may consider the matter
settled and will now bid you good-by.” The priest and burgomaster
thereupon took their departure. When they were gone, the members of Reb
Shemayah’s household, who had heard with amazement, not unmixed with
horror, his declaration of willingness to bear the image, besieged him
with questions as to how it was possible for him to think of such a
thing. But Reb Shemayah only smiled and answered not a word. In the
meanwhile the priest and the burgomaster had a heated and angry
discussion. Each blamed the other for the extremely embarrassing
position in which they were placed; but the priest smarted most under
the reproaches of his colleague in iniquity, for the fact was
indisputable that the plot had originated with him, and it was
particularly mortifying to him, as a man of presumably superior wisdom,
to have committed such an egregious blunder, and to be in danger of
ignominious exposure. The upshot of their debate was that Reb Shemayah
must be induced to change his mind and withdraw his acceptance of the
impossible honor which they had tendered him, and that knowledge of
their scheme, and the manner in which it had been frustrated, must be
kept from the councilmen and the people in general.
But who should undertake the difficult and unpleasant task of
undeceiving Reb Shemayah, a task which, they clearly foresaw, would
involve confession of their guilty purpose and practically throwing
themselves on the mercy of the Jew, whom they had deliberately plotted
to torture and plunder, and who had so cleverly turned the tables upon
them? Each desired the other to undertake the disagreeable mission; but
finally the burgomaster yielded to the urgent pleadings of the
humiliated cleric and consented to visit Reb Shemayah and endeavor to
alter his unexpected resolution. Accordingly at a very early hour the
following morning—the burgomaster called intentionally so early in order
to forestall any attempt of Reb Shemayah to disseminate the news of the
distinction he had received—the burgomaster appeared again in Reb
Shemayah’s dwelling. Our friend was not in the least surprised to see
the burgomaster; in fact, he had expected that either he or the priest
would appear, but expressed, as in duty bound, great astonishment at his
early visit.
“To what do I owe the honor of this very early call, good friend
burgomaster?” he said, with voice and countenance expressive of
surprise. “Is there any other service, perhaps, which the community
requires of me?”
“No, good friend Shemayah,” said the burgomaster, with halting voice and
embarrassed manner; for, in good truth, he felt very cheap indeed. “In
fact, I have come to tell you that his reverence, the priest, and I
discussed the matter of your acting as image-bearer on our way back from
your house last evening, and we came to the conclusion that we had not
given enough consideration to your Jewish prejudices; and that we really
ought not to insist on your performing an act which is against your
conscience. I have, therefore, come to tell you that you are released
from the function for which we had selected you, and that you need not
act as image-bearer.”
“Aha,” thought Reb Shemayah, “so this is the direction from which the
wind blows! Well, you shall not get off so easy. You and your reverend
companion must first be taught a little lesson of consideration for the
feelings of others, and be discouraged from similar financial ventures
in the future.” Then he spoke aloud and in a tone of the utmost courtesy
and deference to the burgomaster. “I thank you, most worthy burgomaster,
for the delicacy and consideration for my conscientious scruples which
your words display, and which are no doubt felt also by his reverence,
the priest. But I have also reflected well on the matter, and I shall
ask no special privilege as a Jew. As his reverence so well explained
last night, it is a matter of civic obligation; and I do not wish, as a
Jew, to shirk any civic duty, or to have it said that my co-religionists
are unwilling to perform any task which the state imposes upon them. I
do not ask, therefore, for any exemption, but shall cheerfully perform
the task assigned me, and appreciate greatly the honor which I have
received in being selected for such a function.”
The face of our worthy burgomaster was a sight to behold during the
delivery of these words, and his feelings would beggar description. He
was a picture of limp despair, of utter dismay and dejection. He saw
clearly that there was no other escape from the predicament than to make
a clean breast of it, which he accordingly resolved to do. It is
unnecessary to enter here into all the details of conversation, to
repeat the faltering words of the confused and embarrassed burgomaster,
and the indignant outbursts of virtuous wrath on the part of Reb
Shemayah. Suffice it to say, that the burgomaster made an abject
confession of the whole despicable plot, and begged Reb Shemayah to have
consideration with him and his companion in guilt and not bring disgrace
on them both; which Reb Shemayah, after his first outburst of wrath had
subsided, consented to do, but only on condition that the priest, as the
instigator of the plot, should visit him and personally ask his pardon.
Both conspirators were glad enough to settle the affair in this way. The
priest appeared before Reb Shemayah the following evening with an humble
apology, which the latter accepted, but not until he had read the
abashed cleric a good lesson on the moral aspects of the priestly
vocation, and on the duty of respecting the feelings and scruples of
those who do not think as we do. Nothing ever became officially known of
the episode, but the facts leaked out somehow, as facts of this kind
have a way of doing, and became the common talk of the village for a
considerable time. The incident caused Reb Shemayah to be looked upon in
a somewhat different light than hitherto. He had previously enjoyed the
reputation of rectitude and piety; after this he acquired a name for
shrewdness and wit, so that the phrases, “shrewd as Reb Shemayah,”
“sharp as Reb Shemayah” vied in popularity in Nordheimer speech with the
other phrases, “good as Reb Shemayah” and “pious as Reb Shemayah.”