Letter to the Robber

Letter to the Robber

 Yakov Shekhter

The night was spring-fresh, with icy stars shimmering in the cold, clear sky. The smells of young grass flew into the half-open window of the carriage, and when the train rumbled along the bridge over the river, the water surface quietly shone, as if all the heavenly stars had thrown their light into it.

Reb Sholom Krois did not find a place for himself. Now he got up and went to the window, inhaling the fresh air flowing from it, then he sat down again on the bench and, resting his chin on his hand, swayed in time with the movement of the carriage. I couldn't get my mind off today's scene in the shop. It was not even about the money, although, of course, why pretend, it was also about them, but the main thing was the frank, impudent, shameless swindle, which he faced face to face and which he could not oppose.

Sholom Krois was a well-known shoikhet, a God-fearing, cautious man. He lived in Chenger, a small town in the north-east of Hungary. His old friend, a successful merchant, started a business selling geese. The geese were reared in Kecskemet, a city located in the center of the country, at a distance of almost four hundred kilometers from Chenger. The Jews of Kecskemet were not distinguished by religious zeal, so the shochet had to be invited from afar to slaughter geese. Once every two months, Reb Sholom boarded the night train in Chenger late in the evening, and in the morning got off at the platform in Kecskemet. Three days of hard work, and again the night train, only this time in the opposite direction.

That day, before leaving, he went into a shop to buy gifts for the children. From any trip, Reb Sholom brought something for his family, trifles, small things, but gifts. He knew how the children were waiting for them, and every time he was glad to see how impatiently they were tearing the wrapping paper.

Reb Sholom ran out of small money, and he handed the shopkeeper a coin of ten crowns. He shrugged in embarrassment.

- Today I have not yet traded, I can’t give change from such an amount. Go around the corner, to the grocer Chaim. His trade is brisk, he will exchange.

Reb Sholom went to the indicated address. The grocer, a large man with a red neck and sleeves rolled up to the elbow, took a coin, threw it into an open cash register and immediately poured a handful of change into Reb Sholom's hand. Glancing at the money received, Reb Sholom was surprised to find that it did not exceed one crown.

“But I gave you ten crowns,” he said to the grocer. “And you only exchanged one for me. Where are the other nine?

- Who do you want to fool? roared the grocer. “You little, primitive crook!” Do you think I get money so easily that I give it to every crook?! Well, get out of my shop.

“I gave you ten crowns,” Reb Sholom insisted, “return the missing.”

“No, just look at this scoundrel! shouted the grocer at the top of his voice. “They also say that Orthodox Jews behave honestly!” Please, here's the proof! A crook, a thief, a boor and a fool!

A crowd of curious people gathered on the sidewalk in front of the shop and watched with interest as the grocer Chaim honors a stranger standing in front of him in the traditional attire of Orthodox Jews. Reb Sholom was a quiet, almost shy person by nature, and Chaim was a loud talker, and the onlookers got the impression that the stranger was really trying to swindle nine crowns from the grocer.

With a bitter heart, Reb Sholom left the shop. Of course, it was a pity for money, almost half of the money earned for this visit turned out to be embezzled by an impudent grocer. But the bitterness was not only from the loss of money, but rather from the shame that he brought on all religious Jews. Making his way through the ring of onlookers, he saw with what contempt they looked in his direction, heard contemptuous, humiliating exclamations. If they were Gentiles, Reb Sholom would not have been so worried, although he would also have been upset, and quite a lot. But the store was in the Jewish quarter, and all the onlookers were Jews who had long ceased to keep the commandments. And today they received a remarkable reinforcement of their position: a man dressed as a rabbi, and therefore a rabbi, was caught in a petty scam!

With an iron clang and a roar, the train continued to roll along the rails, shuddering at the joints with its entire large body. Reb Sholom wearily closed his eyes, usually at that time he was already asleep, so that tomorrow morning he would rush straight from the station to the synagogue, and then again, like a screw in a soft tree, screw himself into his usual worries and troubles. And then a thought came into his head, at which he opened his eyes and jumped to his feet.

After all, the train passes by the town of Krostir, where the righteous Rebbe Ishaya Steiner lives. Why not get off at this station and ask the tzaddik for advice? The thought was still spinning in the head of Reb Sholom, and his hands were already dragging a travel trunk from the top shelf. The conductor was surprised at the strange whim of the passenger.

“The train stops in Krostir for exactly three minutes. Hole, what to look for. Even the birds don't sing until dawn.

Reb Sholom was the only passenger to get off the train. The empty platform was dimly lit by a single lantern. The big clock on the modest station building showed half past two. Reb Sholom sighed and went to look for the synagogue.

Rebbe Isaiah has long since crossed the line of old age. His face was like gray ashes, and his long beard was also gray. Once blue, but long-faded eyes looked young, the years that hunched the shoulders and whitened the hair could not do anything with their lively brilliance.

“So-so-so,” he said, after listening to the detailed story of Reb Sholom. - Well, well, well. I advise you to write a detailed letter to the grocer stating your complaint. The letter must be written in the most respectful manner. As if you are not addressing a thief and a robber, but a respected rabbi.

To say that Reb Sholom was surprised is to say nothing. But the righteous thinks differently, his view of the world is essentially different. And as soon as he so orders, it remains only to rely on his vision and rush into the water.

Returning home, Reb Sholom composed a letter using expressions suitable for rabbinical responsa. On the way to the post office, he could not help but bewildered expression on his face, and the postman, old Shandor, who brought letters to Reb Sholom's father, cautiously asked if everything was all right with him.

A week passed, but, as expected, there was no response. Reb Sholom wrote another letter, and a week later another. Now the will of the righteous was carried out with all diligence. And what else can a person do in our vague and opaque world?

A month later, Reb Sholom was again in Kecskemet and, of course, hurried to the grocer at the first opportunity. He did not recognize him or pretended not to recognize him. Reb Sholom was not offended, because hundreds of customers pass through the shop every day, where can I mention all of them. However, before he had time to turn to Chaim with words of greeting, he interrupted him with loud abuse.

"What do you want, scribbler?" Thinking of swindling money out of me? Looking for a fool!

“But listen…” began Reb Sholom.

- I don't want to hear anything! Instead of working honestly and earning bread by the sweat of your brow, in your yeshivas you learn chicanery and sweet expressions, and then indulge in fraudulent machinations. Well, why are you scribbling me letter after letter? Where did you pick up these mean-smooth phrases? Yes, I don’t even know such words as you stuck there, but your letters belong in the oven. I somehow mastered the first one, and sent the rest, without revealing it, there. Well, that's enough, get out, don't interfere with trading!

Reb Sholom showed neither surprise nor resentment. After all, it could not be otherwise. The only thing that did not fit into the picture of the world that he understood was the indication of the tzaddik.

“Well then,” Reb Sholom said to himself, returning from the grocer’s, “the train stops at Krostir station at half past two in the morning.

“Well, well, well,” remarked Rabbi Yishai when the shochet finished his story. - Well, well, well. Means, letters at once in an oven. And you again face in the dirt?

“Exactly so,” Reb Sholom confirmed.

“Well, you have done what you were asked to do. You can safely return home.

And Reb Sholom went home, and again screwed himself into the endless stream of successes, worries and sorrows that make up our lives. To be honest, he almost forgot about the grocer and the nine crowns. Well, how long can you remember insults and lament losses? God gives money and He takes it away. Probably, too much fell to his lot, and it was decided to take away the excess.

A week and a half later, there was a knock on the door. The postman Shandor brought a telegram: “Come by the first train period, we urgently need to talk to Chaim.”

“So,” Reb Sholom said to himself as he was getting ready for the station, “the words of the righteous man are beginning to come true. Interesting, very interesting.

He rocked in the carriage, unable to close his eyes. Outside the window, white stars rushed by in large snowflakes, the accelerating train rumbled muffledly, the wheels trembled loudly at the junctions of the rails.

It rained at night. He knocked on the roof of the car, poured on the glass, preventing him from getting on the platform during stops. The nightlife of the railway stations, which hitherto had eluded Reb Sholom's attention, now seemed to him very entertaining. He so wanted to run along the wet platform, black from the downpour, and break into the waiting room filled with light and noise. But the conductor wouldn't let me.

- At night, parking is usually reduced, after all, passengers do not go out, they sleep. As soon as they finish loading the mail, they immediately send it. Leave behind, and the next train is only tomorrow at noon.

The grocer Chaim was waiting for him at the entrance to the shop.

- Oh! he shouted, noticing Reb Sholom from afar. How nice of you to come!

Before Reb Shlomo could open his mouth, the grocer shoved a tightly stuffed bag into his hand.

“Here is your nine crowns and money for the round trip. Take it, take it, I want to finally calm down.

Reb Sholom looked at the grocer in surprise. Such a drastic change in his behavior looked, at least, strange. But that was far from all.

“And also,” the grocer continued with the same intensity with which he cursed the shoihet during previous meetings, “I want to apologize for yelling at you and disgracing you in public. I beg you to forgive me. And I ask you not to refuse my request!

“That's right,” thought Reb Sholom. “This is how the word of the righteous works. If someone else had told me this, I would not have believed it right away. But how, how did Rebbe Isaiah do it?!”

“Good,” he said to the waiting grocer. - I forgive you. The Torah forbids a Jew to remember an offense and take revenge. Especially when repentance is sincere. As in your case.

- What a sincere one! cried the grocer. - It just made its way to the very depths, to the liver, to the spleen!

He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued:

“Oh, if everyone were as forgiving as you are… I would so much like to ask forgiveness from an old rabbi. By the way, do you know him?

- And what is his name? asked the shoikhet.

- I have no idea. His face resembles gray ashes, and his long beard is also gray. But the eyes, uh, sharp, like needles.

The grocer sighed heavily.

He comes to me every night. It wakes up and doesn't let you sleep. And before you wake up, he shames mercilessly. He says such words, even burn with shame. And he looks ... oh-she-she, how he looks, as if he is screwing screws in my eyes.

What is he getting from you? asked Reb Sholom, who immediately realized who he was talking about.

“Oh,” said the grocer. - So that I return your money and ask for forgiveness. And until you forgive me, there will be no peace, no sleep, no rest for me. But you forgave me, did you?

“I forgave you, of course I did,” Reb Sholom replied. “And this rabbi’s name is Rabbi Yishai Steiner of Krostir.

“Rabbe Isaiah, then,” repeated the grocer. So his name is Rebbe Isaiah. The next time you see him, pass on, yes, pass on exactly in these words, that thanks to him I again believed in the existence of the Almighty.