The Family Moskat (87 page)

"Yes, the scum of the gutters has floated up to power now," Dosha said with a sigh. "God knows what the end will be."

THE BIALODREVNA CHASSIDIM had rented a bakery on

Krochmalna Street where they would be able to have their Passover matzos prepared in the strict ritual manner. Rabbi Aaron and the others did all the work. They drew water in a brand-new cask and allowed it to stand overnight. The Chassidim themselves scrubbed the tables, scoured the rolling-pins, the baking-shovel, and the boards on which the layers of dough were cut and scored. They did not roll the scorings in the unleavened bread, but stabbed them into the dough with wooden prongs, in the old-fashioned manner. Anshel, at whose house the rabbi was lodging, had the job of sliding the flat cakes into the oven. Fishel cut the dough. Pinnie and the others kneaded it, rolled it, and poured the water. All the while the faithful sang and chanted psalms.

Everything was done according to the very letter of the ritual.

The rabbi himself watched as Anshel's wife heated the oven in the kitchen. In order that the gratings might become red-hot and -574-glowing, they

heaped burning coal on them and then covered them with sand.

The men ate only dry matzos. The women and children were permitted the other Passover dainties, matzoh meal dumplings, pancakes, matzoh pudding. Therefore it was necessary to have two complete sets of cooking utensils and dishes. At first Pinnie wanted Aaron to spend the feast days at his house, but the rabbi showed clearly that it would not be to his taste. Pinnie's daughters were not observant about ritual matters, and Aaron did not trust Pinnie's wife, either, since she came from Kurland, where the customs were different. It was decided that Aaron would observe the seder night at Anshel's. For his part Pinnie conducted a seder on the first night for the entire Moskat clan, including Koppel and his children. Leah paid all the expenses. She also sent a long telegram to Hadassah in Shrudborov and got in touch with Asa Heshel in Warsaw. She wanted them both present.

Preparing the seder feast for a score or so of guests was by no means an easy task. Hannah and the girls could hardly manage it by themselves. Leah wound a kerchief around her head, donned an apron, rolled up her sleeves, and applied herself to the job.

The others told her not to bother; after all, she was a guest, an American. But Leah would not be dissuaded. In America she had never had the opportunity to indulge in the arduous holiday preparations. There she bought a few pounds of machine-made matzos and let it go at that. But here, in Warsaw, Jewishness still had its old-fashioned charm. She washed and scrubbed and demonstrated some of her long-unused housewifely energy.

So now they were busy draining the meat according to the prescribed technique, scouring the pots and pans, cleaning the dishes. From a hook in the ceiling hung the specially prepared "Chassidic" matzos for Pinnie. The ordinary kind lay in a covered basket. Weeks before, Hannah had put up the borsh to ferment, and the night before the seder Pinnie had lighted a candle and made the required inspection for leavened bread. The crumbs of bread that Hannah had beforehand placed in little corners and crevices about the room were wrapped up in a rag of cloth and burned the following day.

Hannah was afraid that she would never be ready on time. But when Passover eve arrived, nothing needed for comfort or enjoyment was missing. Three tables had been set up and cov--

575-ered with tablecloths. Additional chairs and benches had been borrowed from neighbors. For Pinnie there had been prepared the traditional chair-bed. On the stove in the kitchen the meat stewed in enormous pots and fish simmered in wide copper pans, which Hannah had had no occasion to use for many years now. In the silver bowl that Pinnie had received as a gift from his father, old Meshulam, lay the shank bone, the egg, the horseradish, the bitter herbs, the parsley, and radish root. The wine and mead were ready in dust-covered bottles and carafes. Leah had purchased wine cups, napkins, linen covers for the matzos, gold-stamped Hagadas. Hannah covered the tray of matzos with a throw she had made for Pinnie while she was still a young bride.

On it were embroidered the figures of the Four Sons: the wise one, the wicked one, the simple one, and the one who has no capacity to inquire. Hannah and Leah recited the prescribed blessings over the candles. The candle flames spread a warmth about the room. Hannah had covered the windows as a pre-caution against the evil eye. While Pinnie was away at prayers --and this year the Bialodrevna prayerhouse was packed--the family assembled. In recent years it had become the fashion to bring flowers to a seder service. So many bouquets were brought that Hannah became confused. Every moment the door opened.

Koppel had brought his family in two taxis; Shosha, Simon Bendel, Manyek and his wife, Yppe and her husband, and all the children. Shosha and Simon spoke to each other in Hebrew.

Koppel puffed up with pride. "What do you think of that daughter of mine?" he beamed. "A real scholar."

Hadassah, bringing Dacha with her, was making her first trip to Warsaw in years. She wore a new dress, and she had had her hair done. She was still a beautiful woman. The younger generation of Moskat kin hardly knew her. Old Meshulam's great-grandchildren called her Aunt and crowded about her, exclaiming at her looks. Stepha's boy told Dacha how he built airplanes from pieces of wood and wire. He was wearing a brown blouse, with a Menorah embroidered on the sleeve. He bragged that he was being taught to shoot a real gun. At first Asa Heshel had absolutely refused to come. He had not seen his father-in-law for years. But Hadassah had warned him that if this time he were to abandon her she would leave him for good. The meeting with the Moskats was so painful a prospect for him that before he went to Pinnie's house he stopped at a bar and swallowed three -576-brandies.

Unused to strong liquor as he was, the drinks immediately exhilarated him.

Pinnie came home from the prayerhouse in his fur hat. He greeted everyone with a lively air. Leah wept when she saw him.

He was a leftover from the old stock. Such fur hats as his used to be worn by Joel and Nathan and Moshe Gabriel, and even Abram. His tone was their tone when they would voice the holiday greetings. Pinnie immediately busied himself with the silver bowl. The shank bone had to be on the right, the egg on the left, and the bitter herbs in the middle. But no matter how he turned the bowl the arrangement did not seem to come out right. As in every year at the Passover seder, Hannah had to come to his aid.

Nyunie put his hand to the adjustment, too. The brothers immediately began to quibble about the proper ritual technique.

Pinnie donned a white robe and recited the grace. Hannah brought in a jug of water and a basin. Pinnie washed his hands and distributed the parsley. The men were all wearing their hats or skullcaps. A huge diamond sparkled on Leah's finger. Hannah put over her neck the gold chain that old Meshulam Moskat had given her as an engagement gift. A silver
Star of David
made in Palestine was suspended around Shosha's throat. Pinnie began to recite: 'This is the bread of affliction which our forefathers ate in the land of Egypt. . . ."

Because Pinnie had no son, his youngest daughter, Dosha, had asked the traditional Four Questions each year. This year, with so many boys about, it was decided that they would go through the ritual together. Their voices pealed out in unison. Yppe's child recited the Hebrew words with expertness, pausing after each phrase to render the translation into Yiddish. He was attending an orthodox school. Stepha's boy recited the phrases with the Sephardic pronunciation. Pinnie grimaced. He did not fancy the way these "modern" Jews had Christianized the holy tongue.

After the questions were asked, Pinnie addressed himself to reading the prescribed answer: "Slaves were we unto Pharaoh in Egypt. . . ."

All recited with him, some in Hebrew and some from the Polish translation. Leah read the words and wept. She had wanted to bring Masha to the seder, but Pinnie had firmly refused to allow the apostate in his home. He had demanded that she first go through the ritual bath and perform all the ceremonies pre--

577-scribed for a return to the faith. Koppel behaved strangely throughout. He spoke loudly in English, and got the names of his grandchildren mixed up. From time to time he laughed and made faces. In his old age he had become eccentric. As the seder ceremony went on, Pinnie fell more and more into ecstasy. He swayed from side to side, waved his arms in the air, and shouted aloud. He picked up the beaker of wine and his voice was broken with weeping: "And it is this same promise which has been the support of our ancestors and of us, for in every generation our enemies have arisen to annihilate us, but the Most Holy, blessed be He, has delivered us out of their hands. . . ."

Hadassah murmured the verses in Polish, Lottie in English.

Hannah blew her nose furiously. Sighs broke out from all of them. Yes, every generation had its Pharaohs and Hamans and Chmielnickis. Now it was Hitler. Would a miracle happen this time too? In a year from now would Jews be able again to sit down and observe the Passover? Or, God forbid, would the new Haman finish them off?

Asa Heshel sat silent. He was thinking of his own family. He remembered the seder at his grandfather's house. He remembered his uncles, his mother. In Tereshpol Minor and in the towns round about, there were still cousins of his. And on Franciskaner Street, Menassah David was celebrating the Passover in his own particular way: reading the Hagada and dancing in ecstasy. In Palestine, David, his son, was observing the holiday with his fellow colonists. Adele was probably all alone in her flat. Barbara had bought a ticket for the opera. Asa Heshel looked at the Hagada and shook his head. Dacha was sitting near him holding on to his arm. What did they talk so much about miracles for, Asa Heshel thought. "They kill them in each generation. If not for the slaughterers and pogroms, we'd num-ber in the hundred millions by now." He looked at Yezhek, Stepha's son, and Dacha, and the other children. They were all doomed. The brandy that he had taken earlier began to lose its effect.

Pinnie lifted up the tray of matzos and with a triumphant gesture pointed at them: "These unleavened cakes, why do we eat them? . . ."

-578-

TOWARD the middle of May, Adele set out on a journey to

Palestine. She got rid of her home, sold her furniture and sewing-machine, and paid six hundred zlotys for passage in a boat that was smuggling immigrants into Palestine. Everything was done through a man who was supposed to know the ropes. The boat was to leave, not from Gdynia, the regular port, but from a little fishing village. Passengers were permitted to take along only one suitcase. Adele sold for next to nothing the cush-ions, mattresses, and sheets she had inherited from her mother; she gave away to the poor the clothes, underwear, shoes, and stockings that she could not take along.

The sea journey, in the small steamer, was supposed to take four weeks; the route lay through the Baltic, the North Sea, the Atlantic, and the Mediterranean. Stops were to be made in Morocco, Italy, and Egypt. Adele asked the manager of the enterprise all manner of questions: would they go by way of the Skagerrak and the Kattegat or through the Kiel Canal? Would they pass through the English Channel or would they have to turn north and round Scotland and Ireland? Above all, would they be able to get past Gibraltar? The manager replied sooth-ingly that everything had been taken care of. As regards Palestine, they would come in at night. No papers would be needed. Adele did not like the glib answers; she was troubled and uncertain, but there was nothing to be done about it. Her heart longed for David. And here, in Poland, war was in the air.

Asa Heshel accompanied Adele to the boat. He also gave her a present to give to his son--a camera. The two of them set out in the evening from the Vienna Station and traveled second-class.

Adele leaned her forehead against Asa Heshel's shoulder and dozed. She was tired out with worry and anxiety. As she napped, with the night lamp glimmering in her eyes, she imagined that she was still young and still Asa Heshel's wife; they were on their honeymoon, in Switzerland.

-579-Asa Heshel

read a newspaper: concentration camps, torture chambers, prisons, executions. Every day there arrived from Germany new transports of expelled Jews. In Spain they were still shooting loyalists. In Ethiopia the Fascists were murdering the natives. In Manchuria Japanese were killing Chinese. In Soviet Russia the purges continued. England was still trying to reach some understanding with Hitler. Meanwhile she also is-sued a White Paper on Palestine, prohibiting the sale of land to Jews. The Poles were at last getting it into their heads that Hitler was their enemy; the German press was conducting an open campaign of hatred against Poland. But in the Polish Sejm the deputies still had time to discuss at great length the min-utiæ of the Jewish ritual laws for the slaughtering of cattle. The opposition papers were hinting that the Polish army, which had cost so many millions, was not in a state of preparedness.

The express sped through the night, sending out its warning whistle. Dark woods flashed by, alternating with blind-faced houses, factories, chimneys. God's world, which seemed to be wrapped in sleep, was wide awake: every tree, every flower, every stalk, was sucking nourishment out of the earth.

In the morning the train pulled in at Gdynia. Asa Heshel saw the sea for the first time in his life. It flashed at him from the distance like a mirror. In the port were anchored several Polish gunboats, rocking on the waves like so many ducks. A bus was waiting for the train passengers, who were supposed to be arriving for a summer holiday at a local village. Most of the travelers were young people--boys and girls--but there were no children. It had been forbidden to bring them along. Some of them talked Hebrew. All of them would have liked to dance the Palestinian hora, but no demonstrations were permitted. Still, when the bus started off for the village of Putzk a group of them burst into a Palestinian song--"Long Live the Jewish People."