Only Yesterday (72 page)

his mouth, all the dogs would have barked at him and the people of the place would have heard and been horrified. For he didn’t come to scare the Children of Israel, but to get accustomed to them.

At that moment, there was not a man, woman, or child of the Children of Israel there. Those whose work was in the city were in the city and those whose work was in the villages walked through the villages. And the women, where were they? The girls went to launder their clothes in the waters of the Shiloh, and their little sisters accompanied them to splash their feet in the water. And the married woman, the ones whose time had come to give birth were giving birth, and those whose time had not yet come to give birth went to the Western Wall or to the Tomb of Our Mother Rachel or to the Mount of Olives, or to the grave of Simon the Saint to pray that their sisters would have an easy birth of sons for the Lord. And the sons, where were they? Some of them were sitting in the Talmud Torah in the city and reciting psalms, and some of them went to the Cave of Kalba Savoua, the Cave of the Sated Dog, to pray for rain, and some of them were sitting in the Alliance Israelite school studying art, and some of them I don’t know where they were at that moment. There was no one there but Gentiles, who don’t know the shape of a He-brew letter.

When Balak saw himself in tranquility and safety, he lifted his tail and started strolling around, sniffing in every courtyard and rummaging through all dungheaps. Finally, he went down to the nearby gardens beneath the neighborhood which continued on into the valley and wound around each other, one above another and one below another, full of trees and bushes, whose shadow rises and falls, one shadow on top of another, as if every tree and every bush is the reflection of the other, and the other is also a reflection of the first. And above the bushes flew a big bee and it cast a shadow too. Balak asked himself, If this buzzer stings me, what shall I do? He opened his mouth and jumped at the bee’s shadow to swallow it alive, according to the law, Kill him first who rises to kill you. The bee noticed that. It laughed and said, Dust in your mouth, mad dog, I won’t sting you and my shadow won’t give you honey. Balak heard it and was ashamed and went off.

He came to a big cave in the rock of the mountain, the bur-ial place of their pilgrims. From there they brought shiploads full of dirt to Italy in Rome to sanctify their graveyards. This is the place the Christians call Aceldama, and it is a cave in the rock of the mountain the Christians call the Mount of Evil Counsel, for there, they say, was the summer house of the High Priest Caiaphas.

The sun declined and the lower parts of the firmament turned gold with seven kinds of gold, and a flock of clouds red as al-abaster floated and surrounded the sun, and opposite, the Mountains of Moab turned gray and turned blue and turned gray. Monks came from doing their good works in the city and entered their prayer house. Opposite them stood the Muezzin and called the faithful to prayer, and opposite him the bells of their churches tolled, and opposite them the Muezzin raised his voice. At last all the voices fell silent and a small still voice of prayers and weeping rose from the city. This is the voice of the Children of Israel imprisoned among the Gentiles and all the Gentiles want to silence them, but the Holy-One-Blessed-Be-He picks up their voice and raises it to the firmament and conceals it in the Trumpet of the Messiah, and when the Trumpet of the Messiah, May it Come Soon in Our Days, is full with the voice of the Children of Israel, the Prophet Elijah May-He- Be-Remembered-For-Good will come and stand on the top of the Mount of Olives and will blow the Trumpet.

A shepherd wrapped in a coarse brown woolen blanket came from the mountains leading goats without number, all of them black and the same height, and in his arms, a day-old kid. The householders came out and brought their goats into the folds, and a smell of fragrant woods drying and a smell of new milk and a smell of dry droppings bubbled up from every house and from every courtyard and a small fire started flickering and glowing from the doorways of the houses, where they were cooking the evening meal in clay ovens. The moon rose and looked like a scythe, and as it came out it disappeared among the clouds and then came out again. Dogs started shouting. Balak opened his mouth and wanted to add his voice to theirs. He recalled something and fulfilled by himself the saying, A dog away from home doesn’t bark for seven years.

God arranged the stars in the firmament and they all sat each and every one in his own place calmly and quietly, silently and com-fortably, and illuminated the earth and those who dwell on it with great affection, and every single star landed in the place the Lord fixed for it as He determined, Blessed-Be-He, for the stars have no will or purpose of their own, aside from doing His commands, Blessed-Be-He. And if you ever saw a star jumping out of its place and getting out of line, know that it is His will, Blessed-Be-He, for even things that look out of line are lined up. And all the sages of truth have already applied their proof to it, there is no need to go on.

Balak Gets Out of Line

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A smell of meat fried in oil and onions started bubbling up. All the air was saturated and smelled good. Such a fine smell as that Balak hadn’t sniffed in many a day, for in Richard Wagner’s brewery they fried meat in butter as the Germans do. Balak raised his nose and the smell began to attract him. He subordinated himself to his nose and plodded along behind it, until he came to the priests’ house where the smell was coming from. He looked at the entrance and saw that the gate was closed. He groaned and said, They’re already sitting down to dinner, for when the priests come in to eat, they lock the gate. Balak stood at the locked door and that smell bubbled up much stronger. Balak pictured to himself all that they were eating and drinking. He longed to join the meal. He postponed his return to Meah Shearim, like fickle people, who, when a pleasurable thing comes their way, they immediately postpone their repentance.

He licked the gate as if it were meat. There was a little wicket there that wasn’t locked. The wicket gave way and opened a bit. Balak stuck his head inside and his whole body was drawn after it. He leaped into the courtyard, and from the courtyard to the vestibule, and from the vestibule to the great hall, where the priests were hav-ing their meal. He saw one fat, fleshy bishop, his belly broad and ris-ing to his double chin. Said Balak to himself, Everybody like that is dear to me, for if he is fat and has a round belly, his portion is dou-ble, and even a light creature lying underneath will draw comfort from a full stomach. Balak went up to him and got into the hem of his cloak, as he did during the sermons of Rabbi Grunam May-Sal- vation-Arise, quite to the contrary.

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The monks sat at the table made in the form of a horse-shoe. That old bishop who had come to tour the monastery sat in the middle, and at his right was the head of the monastery, and behind him the principal of the seminary, and behind him the keeper of the holy bones, and behind him the keeper of the keys. All of them were important and dignified priests. And behind them the brothers, the keeper of the holy vessels and the keeper of the icons and the keeper of the candles. And to the left of the bishop sat the students of the seminary. One student arose and read a chapter of Holy Scripture. That day it was a chapter from I Samuel telling that the priests’ cus-tom with the people was, that, when any man offered sacrifice, the priest’s servant came, while the flesh was in seething with a fleshhook of three teeth in his hand so he could take a lot with it, and he struck it into the pan, or kettle, or cauldron, or pot; all that the fleshhook brought up the priest took for himself. After the student concluded his chapter, the other seminary students stood up and brought all kinds of dishes to the table. Some were made according to the local custom, and some were made according to the customs of other lands to honor every single land, and some were made according to the custom of the monastery and some were made according to the cus-tom of the early monks, because you don’t throw out the old for the new, if you can maintain both of them. And old Father Zenon, in charge of the tables, takes the portions from the hands of the young men and puts them before the bishop and the dignitaries of the monastery. And the man in charge of the wine stands and pours.

After they ate and drank and said grace, the old men gathered in the prior’s room. They were brought narghilas and cigars and cigarettes and fruit and various sweets. They smoked and drank and ate, and ate and drank and smoked, and refreshed themselves with stories of their saints and with the tale of the Father of the Bull for whom the neighborhood is named and with other amusing stories. From those stories they came to stories of ordinary men, and from them to the daughters of man, whose heart God sealed and you can’t know their mystery. They told this, that, and the other thing. One thing we shall tell.

A rich peasant’s wife died. He made her a big funeral and married another woman. Soon after, she died too. He made her a big funeral and married another woman. She died too. He made her a big funeral and married another woman. Soon after, she died too. He made her a big funeral and married another woman. She died too. He made her a big funeral and wanted to marry a virgin. He came upon a maiden who agreed to marry him. Her girlfriends came to her and said, That assassin you want to marry, won’t he bury you as he buried the first six or seven? She said to them, Instead of looking at their deaths, look at the nice funeral he made for them.

Let’s go back to Balak. So Balak lay in the monks’ house at the feet of the bishop and ate what the bishop ate and drank what the bishop drank (aside from the alcoholic beverages a dog isn’t easy with), and didn’t turn away his ears even from the spiritual things, especially from the story of that maiden, who didn’t look at her death but at the fine funeral her husband would make for her, for in most cases, what is desired vanquishes good sense and impels actions. Sim-ilarly, said Balak, I know that if I go to Meah Shearim I’ll end up killed, but even so I will go, for all my being is there already, and if my tail wanders here, the core of my vitality is there. And I don’t need to seek an intelligent reason, for the will is reason enough for everything.

About the Spirits

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Balak left the priests’ house and set off for Meah Shearim. He saw that his body was heavy and his belly dragged him to the ground, and he was also tired from so much eating and drinking. He did what he did and postponed his walk to the next day, and sought a place to put himself until he digested the food in his guts. And why didn’t he go back to the priests’ house? Because of the tolling of the bells. In the past, when Ishmael was assertive, no bell struck in Jerusalem, and the Christians got around their obligation with a mortar, now that the Christians are powerful, they ring the bells in their churches and dis-turb sleep. And so Balak sought a place for his bones. He knew he couldn’t sleep outside, in case a Jew saw him. And he didn’t have the strength to dig himself a hole. He gazed up and saw that he was standing near Djurat El-Anab in the Valley of the Spirits below Yemin Moshe near the Abu Tor neighborhood. But he didn’t go there for the same reason, in case a Jew saw him, for that poor neighborhood is populated by Jews, and in every single one of the forty-seven houses in the neighborhood, there are two score Jews. Some of them are porters, some of them are cobblers, some of them are shoemakers, some of them are peddlers, and if they saw him they would do to him what they do to Negroes. Once upon a time, some Negroes came to Djurat El-Anab to steal, the porters overpowered them and bound their hands and feet, and the peddlers came and beat them with their measuring rod, and the cobblers cobbled them with their awls. Balak looked at the four corners of the sky, where is a place for his bones. And wherever Balak turned his eyes, it locked itself before him. Here the sky lowered its head to the ground and here the hills rose up to

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the firmament, and he wasn’t an expert in the laws of the sky and didn’t understand the way of the horizon, and thought the world was closed down on him. He took himself south of Jaffa Gate and hid there among the big houses standing on a landfill of dung that was taken out of the city and poured into the valley and those houses were built on it. A wind came and turned the windmills. A menacing sound was heard like the sound of the windmills at night when the winds gather to grind the black flour. Another menace mated with that menace, that they would sequester and harness him as one of the businessmen of Jerusalem did who leased a windmill, but didn’t have the money to rent the mules to turn the millwheel, so he went and brought a pack of dogs and tied them up to grind his flour. And since Balak didn’t have the strength to run away, he stood still and lamented for himself, as if he were already chained and as if he were already forced to work and would never have salvation. Balak groaned from his heart and thought, What has happened to me and what will become of me? Is it possible for a weak creature like me to endure such hard work? Won’t I die, and I will surely die and there’s no doubt I will die, and if I don’t die from that work, I will die from boredom. How do you take a free dog and make him a slave forever to walk around here and there like a mule of a mill until he dies, and when he dies you throw him into the dungheap just like that.

But Balak’s luck at that moment was extraordinary. And when he imagined that he was already chained, he looked out of the corner of his eye to see what they were doing to him. He saw that he was standing in a safe neighborhood, in Yemin Moshe near Montefiore’s windmill. And when Balak saw himself at Montifiore’s windmill he was no longer scared, for the windmill was idle and they weren’t working in it, and even if it wasn’t idle, there was no danger because it was worked by wind power and not by animal power, for that dignitary Reb Moses Montefiore was a great saint and all his works were designed to make things easy for folks and not to bother them, and he built that windmill only for the good of folks. How? When he saw that the poverty was immense, and everything he wanted to do for the good of Jerusalem, the sages and Rabbis of Jerusalem came and prevented him, for they were afraid of everything new that could lead to heresy, he built a windmill to make it a little easier for the poor, who wouldn’t have to take the grain to the city to the windmills of the Arabs, who took a lot of money and produced a little flour. He built a fine windmill of square-cut stones, fifty feet high, and sent machinery and tools and an English artisan who was expert in that work. The pieces came to Jaffa and were taken up to Jerusalem, every single part separately, and four or five porters loaded them because they were so heavy, and four months they were busy bringing them up. The windmill was built and the wind re-volved four pairs of big stones. They ground and made flour. The Arabs saw and were jealous. They hired an old man to curse the windmill. He turned his eyes to the windmill and said, I guarantee you that when the rains come and the winds come, they will make it into an everlasting ruin. The winds came and the rains came and didn’t do anything to it. The old man saw it and said, This is the Devil’s work here and no mortal can uproot it. And even the great Dervishes agreed with him. Within a few years, two or three of the pieces were broken and there wasn’t anyone in Jerusalem who could repair them. They wrote to Montefiore but he didn’t respond, for steam mills were already built in Jerusalem that didn’t depend on the winds. That windmill remained idle and ground the wind. Said Balak, I shall lie here until tomorrow and shall rest a bit from my toil.