La Montaña Dorada

That night, and all through the Sabbath, the students gathered in groups and discussed the Rabbi's laughter. Three times he had laughed. And they sought in the Torah for explanation of his joy. But they could find no certain answer.

It was the custom of Rabbi Israel in the evening after the out-going of Sabbath to receive one of the scholars into his cabin, and to answer any question that might have arisen among the disciples during the day of rest.

As evening came, the scholars all gathered together, and chose Rabbi Wolf from among themselves to go to the Master and ask why he had broken out three times into laughter during the Sabbath meal.

Rabbi Wolf went to the hut in the forest, to which the Baal Shem Tov often withdrew for solitary contemplation. Rabbi Wolf knocked, and entered.

Rabbi Israel asked, smiling, "What questions have the scholars today?"

"They would like to know," said Rabbi Wolf, "why the Master laughed three times during the meal on the eve of Sabbath."

"Come," said the Baal Shem Tov, "we will get into the wagon and ride, and perhaps you will find out the answer to your question."

Often, on the evening after Sabbath, Rabbi Israel and his students would get into his wagon, and ride on the country roads.

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Now they harnessed the horses, and all of the scholars got into the wagon, and all were silent.

The night was soft, it was pleasant. The Baal Shem left the reins lying loosely over his knees. The horses ambled down a forgotten lane. And the Baal Shem hummed to himself, and soon all of the chassidim were humming.

So they rode hour after hour, and instead of turning back they rode onward, and they rode all through the night.

On Sunday morning they found themselves in a village which they had never before seen. Rabbi Israel halted the wagon in front of a tiny synagogue; he got down, and called the shamash.

Soon it was known among all the Jews in the village that the great Rabbi Israel, the Baal Shem Tov, was come among them. Men and women hastened to the market-place, and mothers ran carrying their children to the Rabbi for his blessing, while childless women sought the touch of his hand.

When a great many people had assembled, he said, "Are all the Jews of the village here?"

The head of the congregation looked from one to the other and said, "All."

But Rabbi Israel looked among them as though he sought for someone; and at last he said, "Where is Sabbatai, the book-binder?"

The shamash ran at once to call the aged Sabbatai. In a moment the shamash returned, followed by a small, grey-haired man, whose blue eyes shone clearly in a mild face.

"Let his wife also be called," said Rabbi Israel. Then Sabbatai hurried and fetched his wife. When the two of them were there, Rabbi Israel

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asked them to stand in the centre of the market-place. On one side of them were all the Jews of the town. And on the other side were Rabbi Israel's scholars.

"Now," said the Master, "tell me, Sabbatai, exactly what you did on last Sabbath eve! But tell me everything, and do not be ashamed, or afraid to speak!"

"Master," said Sabbatai, "I shall indeed tell you everything that happened to me, and what I did; and if it is God's will that I be punished, I am ready to accept his punishment, asking no more than to serve Him."

Then the aged book-binder told his story:

You must know that since my youth I have lived in this village and practised my craft as a book-binder. In those early years, when I was filled with vigour, I was able to manage a thriving business, and I lived on all that was best in the world.

My little wife and I loved to dress well and to have good things to eat, and this we permitted ourselves, for as long as I had enough work to do there was no lack of money. Perhaps we were even somewhat extravagant in buying costly clothing, but my wife was the prettiest girl in the village, and I wanted to see her clothed as became her beauty. And when we drove to the neighbouring villages, I too had to be dressed in a way that would not put her to shame.

So it happened that we spent all the money that I earned, never putting away anything for later years.

With all that, we led honest and observant lives. From my earliest youth it was the custom in our house to strictly observe the Sabbath. On Thursday afternoon my wife would go to the market and buy fish,

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meat, flour, candles, and all things that were needed for the Sabbath. On Friday morning at ten o'clock I would put aside my work, close my shop, and go to the synagogue. There I would remain until night fell, when I would go home to the Sabbath meal. Coming toward the house, I would see the lighted candles shining through the window, and I would know that everything was well in my house.

But during these last years, the weakness of old age has come upon me. I have no sons to help me. And it seems that, little by little, the world is forgetting me. I no longer receive much work from the neighbouring villages. And as I am not as vigorous as I was in my youth, I cannot go out to seek more work. Therefore it goes hard with me these years.

There have been days when we did not have a penny for buying bread. On those days, we fasted. For I said to my wife, "The people among whom we live are kind-hearted and charitable, and they would be generous toward us if they knew of our plight. But I have lived all my life without asking help of anyone but God, and so I would finish my days."

Last Thursday, when my wife was ready to go out to the market, she saw that there was no money in the house, and no food, not even a bit of flour-dust to bake into bread. She came to me and asked me what money I had, but I had earned nothing at all that day. "Perhaps by tomorrow morning," I said, "some work will come into the shop." Then she went home, and for the first time during our years of marriage, my wife did not do her Sabbath marketing on Thursday afternoon.

On Friday morning no work came. Then I said to

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my wife, "Let us fast throughout this Sabbath. But above all we must not let our neighbours know that we are in need. For the neighbouring women would come with meat, and fish, and Sabbath-bread, and you would not be able to refuse their offerings."

Then I made a plan, and said to my wife, "I will tell you how we must manage. I will remain late in the synagogue, later than usual. I will stay until all the others have gone. Then I will be able to come home without meeting anyone who may ask me: Sabbatai, why are there no candles lit in your house? I would not know how to answer such a question. And when I come home at night, we will praise God, accepting what he has given us."

So my good wife agreed. And at ten o'clock in the morning I closed the door of my shop, and went to the synagogue.

In our little house my wife sat, and as there was no Sabbath meal to prepare, she had nothing to do. As she did not like to sit empty-handed, she began to clean the house again. She cleaned the bare table and washed the empty pots, she brushed the vacant cupboard, she swept and dusted where there was no particle of dust, and when she was finished the house was perfect as a jewel.

Still time went long with her. Then she began to seek for other things to do. And she bethought herself of the great chest filled with old clothing. "I will put the old clothing in order," she said, "and clean it, and mend what needs to be mended."

In the chest were all the fine clothes we had worn in our youth. And there among the garments she found a coat that I had worn when we went to the

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villages to dance, and on that coat were seven buttons covered with gold. My wife was overjoyed! She took her scissors and cut the golden buttons from the coat. She ran with them to the goldsmith. He weighed the gold, and paid her the worth of it in money. Then she hastened to the market. She bought meat, and fish, and flour, and fine tall candles, and she had enough money to buy wine for the Sabbath blessing, and to buy all the other necessities for a perfect Sabbath! Then she went home, and all during the afternoon she was busy preparing the Sabbath meal.

When darkness came, and all the others had gone from the synagogue, I walked slowly toward my house. I met no one on the way, and for that at least I was glad, as I thought I would not have known what to answer if someone had met and asked me, "Sabbatai, why are there no candles in your house tonight?"

But as I came near the house, I saw the light of candles! Then I thought, my good wife has not been able to withstand this trial, and has taken the help of neighbours.

I came into the house. I saw the white cloth spread on the table, and upon the cloth was arranged a beautiful Sabbath meal. I saw fish and meat and fresh-baked Sabbath bread, and soup, and wine for the blessing.

Then, as I did not want to break the peace and joy of the Sabbath, I said nothing to my wife. I withheld-the disappointment that I felt when I thought that she had accepted gifts from our neighbours. I spoke the blessing over the wine, and over the meal, and I sat down to the Sabbath table.

But after a while I spoke to her as gently as I might,

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so that she would not feel hurt at my words. I said, "My good wife, I see that you were not able to refuse the kindness of our neighbours, for you are a softhearted woman."

But she smiled in a strange joyous way, and laughed at me, and said, "My honest Sabbatai, do you remember the costly coat you had when you were young, your coat with the golden buttons? Today, having nothing with which to occupy my hands, I searched in the old clothes-chest, and I found your coat. I cut off the buttons and took them to the goldsmith, and he gave me money with which I bought all that we needed for the Sabbath, and there is enough money left for food for another day!"

Master! My heart was so filled with joy that I could not contain myself. Tears went from my eyes. Once more I praised the Lord for not having forgotten his children. And I praised him again and again, happy that it was from God himself, and not from man, that we had received our Sabbath.

My heart was filled with singing. I forgot the majesty of the Sabbath. And I took my wife by the hands, and led her out, and we danced in our little house. Then we sat down to eat. But when she served the fish course, I was so overcome with joy that I took her in my arms and danced with her again. And when we ate our soup, we danced a third time, and laughed and cried for happiness. For my soul overflowed with the glory of God, and I could not shut my heart over the terrible joy that was in it.

But, Master, it came to me afterward that perhaps our dancing and laughter had disturbed the sublimity of God's Sabbath; and if we have sinned in such a

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[SABBATH MEAL]

Click to enlarge
SABBATH MEAL

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way, and you have come here to find us out, then speak a full punishment over me and my wife, and we will accept it, and do all that remains in our power to fulfil the punishment that you put upon us, and come once more into the grace of God.

So spoke the book-binder, Sabbatai, while his wife stood by his side.

Then Rabbi Israel said to his scholars, and to all who were assembled there, "Know, that all the hierarchy of Heaven sang, and laughed, and was joyful, and danced hand in hand with this aged man and his wife when they were happy on Sabbath eve. And there was a golden joy spread all through Paradise, and joy filled the Eternal Heart. And for the three times you heard my laughter, my friends, I was here with them when they went out three times to dance, and I danced, and I sang with them!"

THE BURNING OF THE TORAH

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THE BURNING OF THE TORAH

HERE IS THE TALE OF THE TERRIFIC STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE BAAL SHEM TOV AND THE ENEMY, WHO BY FOUL TRICKERY SOUGHT TO HAVE THE TORAH TAKEN AWAY FROM THE JEWS

Then the Enemy, tormented as he saw Rabbi Israel doing good on earth, schemed to overcome the Master. He called all the angels of darkness into conclave about him and said, "This is my plan:

"I will station dark angels on all the roads that lead to heaven. And whenever and wherever a prayer rises seeking to go upward and enter the Gates of heaven, the dark angels will seize it and throttle it and prevent it from reaching the Gates. Those prayers that have already wandered many years in limbo, they as well as the new prayers shall be prevented from arriving. And thus, no prayers will come before the Throne.

"When many days shall have passed with not a single prayer attaining the Throne, I will go up to God and say to him, 'Look, how your people have deserted you. They no longer send prayers up to you. Even your favourite among the puppets, your devoted Rabbi Israel, has ceased to worship you. Take back your wisdom from Rabbi Israel, and deprive his people of your Torah!'"

This was the plan of Satan.

At once his ministers of evil crept out upon all the roads that led to heaven. No turning-point, no by-path was left unguarded. Silent, and invisible, they lay in wait. Before the Gates of heaven, a great army of them were in ambush. No prayer could pass.

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As the prayers came upward, the angels seized them from behind, and leaped upon them, and throttled them. They could not kill the prayers, but flung them sidewards into chaos. All space was filled with the whimpering and moaning of wounded prayers that stumbled in search of their way.

But every Friday, the prayers came forward in such swarms that all the angels of evil were not numerous enough to stop them. Then many prayers escaped along the roads, and made their way to the Gates of heaven. But here, the army that lay in wait before the Gates of heaven stopped them, and did not allow them to enter.

Thus, weeks went by, and no prayers came up to the Throne.

Then Satan went to God and said, "Take away the Torah from the Jews."

God said, "Give them until the Day of Atonement."

But Satan was impatient. "Send out the command at once!" he said. "Though it be not done until the Day of Atonement."

God gave the terrible command.

Then, on earth, the Archbishop issued a proclamation to all his bishops. "In ten days' time," he said, "seize all of the Hebrew books of learning. Go among the Jews and take their Torah out of their synagogues and out of their houses. Heap the books into pyres, and burn them."

The Bishop of Kamenitz-Podolsky was the most zealous to follow the commands of the Archbishop. He sent his servants into all the houses of the Jews. The Bishop of Lemberg was also zealous. And all

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of the bishops did as they had been commanded to do.

The tenth day would be the Day of Atonement. And on that day, in a thousand pyres lighted in every corner of the land, the Torah would burn.

When the Torah began to be taken from the Jews, the Baal Shem knew that Satan had done a terrible work. Yet he could not find out what strange evil the Enemy had done, and he did not know how to battle against him.

Each day, the suffering and the horror among the Jews became greater. As the Torah was wrenched from their arms, they wept and beat themselves as mothers whose babes are torn from their breasts. And they said, "On the Day of Atonement we will go into the flames with our Torah!"

Fasting, and sleepless, night and day the Baal Shem strove for his people. Day and night he sent mighty prayers heavenward, they rose colossal on powerful wings and shot upward with incredible speed. But the Enemy was on guard every instant in every crevice of the heavens, the Enemy himself caught the prayers of the Baal Shem, and threw them from their way.

The heart of the Baal Shem was become a gusty cave of grief.

At last came the Day of Atonement.

Rabbi Israel went into the synagogue to hold the prayer service. At his side stood Rabbi Yacob.

And all those who were in the synagogue saw the terrible fever of struggle that lay over the face of the Baal Shem Tov. Hope came into their bleak hearts. "He will save us today," they said.

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When the moment came for the utterance of Kol Nidro, Rabbi Israel lifted his voice, his voice sang through the shreds of his torn heart; all who listened were frozen with sorrow.

In the service of the lamentations it was the custom for Rabbi Yacob to read each verse aloud, then Rabbi Israel would repeat the verse after him. And so they began the lamentations.

But when Rabbi Yacob read out the verse, "Open the Portals of Heaven!" there was no sound from Rabbi Israel. Rabbi Yacob waited. The synagogue quaked in a terrific silence. And Rabbi Israel remained silent. Rabbi Yacob repeated, "Open the Portals of Heaven!" But still the Master did not utter a word.

Then, in that fever of silence, Rabbi Israel threw himself upon the ground, and beat his head against the ground, and out of him there came a cry that was like the roar of a dying lion.

Rabbi Israel remained doubled upon the ground. His body quivered with the might of the struggle. For two hours he remained with his head bent upon the ground.

And those who were in the house of prayer could not take their eyes from him; they did not dare to approach him, but watched him, and were silent.

At last Rabbi Israel raised himself. His face was a face of wonders.

He said, "The Portals of Heaven are open!"

And thus he ended the service.

Long afterward, what he had done during the two hours when he lay with his head to the ground became known.

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He had gone up to the Palace of the Eternal. He had gone up to the greatest of Gates, that stands over the road that leads directly to the Throne. There, huddled before the Gate, he had found hundreds and thousands of prayers. Some of them were maimed, some lay gasping as though they had just ended a terrible struggle, some were emaciated and old, some were blind through wandering in darkness.

"What are you waiting for!" asked the Baal Shem. "Why don't you go in, and approach the Throne of the Almighty?"

They said, "Until this moment, the angels of darkness were on guard, and would not let us approach the Gate. But as they saw you coming, they fled. Now we are waiting for your prayer, to take us within the Portals."

"I will take you in," said the Baal Shem Tov.

But just at the moment when he sought to pass through the Gate, the army of Evil ones who had rushed behind the Gate when they saw his approach pushed the Gate forward, and closed it. Then the Enemy himself came out. In his two hands he carried a lock. He hung the lock upon the great Portal.

The Gate is as big as the world. And the lock was as big as a city.

The Baal Shem went up to the lock and walked around it, seeking some crack through which he might enter, and through which he might lead the prayers. But the lock was of solid iron, and there was no crack anywhere.

The road to the throne was closed.

But the Baal Shem did not despair.

It is known that for each of us on earth there lives

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a being in heaven. And that being is exactly as we are.

Into that nether region of heaven the way was open. Then Rabbi Israel went in there, and sought out his counterpart, who was the Rabbi Israel of heaven.

And Rabbi Israel of the earth said to him, "What shall I do, to bring the prayers before the Name?"

Rabbi Israel of heaven said, "There is only one thing to do. Let us go to the palace of Messiah."

They came to the palace where Messiah sits awaiting the day when he may go down to earth.

And as soon as the Baal Shem entered, Messiah cried out to him, "Be joyous! I will help you!" And he gave the Baal Shem a token.

The Baal Shem took the token, and went back to the Gate that was locked. Before the token, the lock fell away, and the Portals opened wide as the earth is large, and all the prayers entered and went straight to the Throne of the Name.

Then there was joy all through the heavens, and the good angels sang paeans of joy, while the dark angels crept and slunk away to the farthest corners of chaos.

In that moment, the Bishop of Kamenitz-Podolsky kindled a fire on earth. He stood by the fire that he had kindled. At his side was a great pile of volumes of Hebrew writings, hundreds of tractates of the Talmud were there in that pyramid.

The Bishop of Kamenitz-Podolsky took a tractate of the Talmud, and hurled it into the fire. It began to burn. The Bishop took another book, and hurled it into the flames. They rose higher, they leaped

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mightily upward. Again and again the Bishop hurled the Talmud into the flames. But when he had thrown seven tractates into the flames, and was about to throw the eighth, his hand was seized with a trembling, and then his whole body was seized with shaking, and he fell in an epileptic fit.

All the multitude shivered with terror, and ran from the burning-place. The fire died down, and went out.

And the news of this spread swiftly, as a pestilence on the wind. Then all those bishops who had builded pyres of holy books, and prepared to burn them, were frightened, fearing that the curse of the Baal Shem would come upon them, and they would be seized with horrible spasms. They left the books in their market-places, and ran into their towers for safety.

Thus the Talmud was saved for the Jews on the Day of Atonement.

THE BOY'S SONG

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THE BOY'S SONG

HOW THE ENEMY, CONTINUING THE BATTLE, SPREAD HIS IRON WINGS OVER THE EARTH, AND HOW THE WINGS WERE PIERCED

The Enemy did not forswear the battle, but came 1 out openly and spread his iron wings between the earth and heaven. The wings were as thick as a mountain is high, and all through they were made of heavy iron. He wrapped his wings around the earth as he would enclose it within the two cups of his hand.

On earth, all was darkness. The wings of the Enemy pressed forever closer to the earth, and crushed the spirits of men.

When Rabbi Israel was about to enter into a synagogue, he stopped outside the door and said, "I cannot go in there. There is no room for me to enter."

But the chassidim said, "There are not many people in the synagogue."

"The house is filled from the ground to the roof with prayers!" said the Master.

But as he saw the chassidim taking pride because of his words, he said, "Those prayers are all dead prayers. They have no strength to fly to heaven. They are crushed, they lie one on top of the other, the house is filled with them."

And he returned to Medzibuz.

He felt the weight of the wings of the Enemy pressing ever closer upon him. He sought for a way to pierce that iron cloud, and make a path to Heaven.

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Not far from Medzibuz there lived a Jewish herdsman. This man had an only son, the boy was twelve years old but so slow-witted that he could not remember the alphabet. For several years the Jew had sent his son to the cheder, but as the boy could not remember anything, the father ceased to send him to the school, and instead sent him into the fields to mind the cows.

The boy took a reed and made himself a flute, and sat all day long in the grass, playing upon his flute.

But when the boy reached his thirteenth birthday, his father said, "After all, he must be taught some shred of Jewishness." So he said to the lad, "Come, we will go to the synagogue for the holidays."

He got in his wagon, and drove his son to Medzibuz, and bought him a cap and new shoes. And all that time, David carried his flute in his pocket.

His father took him to the synagogue of Rabbi Israel.

They sat together among the other men. The boy was very still.

Then the moment came for the prayer of mussaf to be said. David saw the men all about him raise their little books, and read out of them in praying, singing voices. He saw his father do as the other men did. Then David pulled at his father's arm.

"Father," he said, "I too want to sing. I have my flute in my pocket. I'll take it out, and sing."

But his father caught his hand. "Be still!" he whispered. "Do you want to make the Rabbi angry? Be still!"

David sat quietly on the bench.

Until the prayer of mincha, he did not move. But

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when the men arose to repeat the mincha prayer, the boy also arose. "Father," he said, "I too want to sing!"

His father whispered quickly, "Where have you got your fife?"

"Here in my pocket."

"Let me see it."

David drew out his fife, and showed it to his father. His father seized it out of his hand. "Let me hold it for you," he said.

David wanted to cry, but was afraid, and remained still.

At last came the prayer of neilah. The candles burned trembling in the evening wind, and the hearts of the worshippers trembled as the flames of the candles. All through the house was the warmth of holiness, and the stillness as before the Presence. Then the outspread palms of the Rabbi were raised over them, and the words of the eighteen benedictions were spoken.

The boy could hold back his desire no longer. He seized the flute from his father's hand, set it to his mouth, and began to play his music.

A silence of terror fell upon the congregation. Aghast, they looked upon the boy; their backs cringed, as if they waited instantly for the walls to fall upon them.

But a flood of joy came over the countenance of Rabbi Israel. He raised his spread palms over the boy David.

"The cloud is pierced and broken!" cried the Master of the Name, "and evil is scattered from over the face of the earth!"

THE WANDERING IN HEAVEN

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THE WANDERING IN HEAVEN

During the day, the Master served all living creatures. From far away they came, begging Life of him; supplicating voices flowed from the mouths of all breathing beings, and the breath of their suffering reached toward him.

He took of his Power, and divided it among them. Unendingly he gave his strength out of himself. Unendingly his Faith flowed to them, in answer.

Under the touch of his finger the wounds of the world were healed.

During the day, he served all living creatures. But at night his soul took freedom. She would no longer remain among the suffering. She shook off time and space as two imprisoning fetters, and raised herself to the borders. She shook off the earth from her foot. She tried her wings. And the Heavens received her.

In Heaven, there is neither time nor space, but infinity and eternity. Each night the soul went further into infinity, deeper into eternity. She followed the living path.

But there came one night when a wall of earth stood before the soul, barring her way. Boundless as had been her flight, so was the barrier boundless. The living path came against the wall, and died. A dark finger had put out all the light of all the stars and covered the warmth of all heaven.

And the wall had a countenance, formless and shadowy, yet it seemed to the soul to be more familiar than her own self. And the soul recognized it, for it was the face of the human life that she had left in the evening, and to which she had to return in the morning, as into a warmed bed.

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But from the other side of the wall there wakened a sound, a great voice in the darkness. It was as though the Path lived again on the other side of the wall, and wakened and spoke:

The Voice of the Unknown spoke:

"Soul, yearning soul, soul of power and of dreams. Soul that seeks for all things, space and infinity, object and mystery at once! This is the boundary. Here is the altar of the world. Beyond this boundary, human life may not pass, for the name of this place is God's Wall.

"Unto this spot reaches variety. Beyond this spot, the Oneness begins.

"Soul that has come unto this silent, impenetrable wall-

"Sever yourself from earthly life, and I will open to you. Or return in your flight. For whoever has passed beyond me, does not return."

And the Voice sank. And again there was nothing before the soul but the dim, silent wall.

The soul lifted her head. For the space of an instant she stood, as though listening to the resounding word, and then she spoke her answer:

"I depart from the—"

In that instant, on earth, a woman leaned over a bed in which lay the body of a man. She looked, she touched the pale deathlike sleeper. Then she cried, "Israel!"

Her cry flew straight to Heaven. Her cry was swifter than the spirit of the stars, swifter than the angel of death. Before that instant was closed, the cry stood at the end of the Path upon which the soul had passed

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so many nights, and the cry put his hand over her shoulder.

Then the soul withheld her words, and looked behind herself. And she spoke no more. She put her arm about the neck of the messenger, and returned in her flight.

That was the last time the Master wandered toward Heaven.

THE PROPHECY OF THE NEW YEAR

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THE PROPHECY OF THE NEW YEAR

HOW RABBI ISRAEL SOUGHT TO BRING HEAVEN DOWN UPON EARTH

Little by little Rabbi Israel had given Power out of himself, that the weaker might be sustained. The well of his Force was deep, and might never become dry, yet the Power was not in him now as in earlier years. His soul went no more into Heaven, and yet he yearned for Heaven.

Then he desired to bring down Heaven on earth.

Though he knew the time had not yet come, he could not restrain his desire, and all of the strength that remained in him gathered and mounted for that attempt.

The pale first sun of the new year hung far in the midst of grey heaven, and the air was filled with the sound of the ram's horn blown in trumpet call. Some thought they could even see the sounds of the trumpet spreading in a faint glowing orbit through the greyness of the autumn day, as the call went forward.

The students sat about the long ancient table in the house of the Baal Shem Tov. Today it seemed to root its gnarled feet into the very ground, and take a new hold on life. Some of the students looked out into the halo of spreading light, and some sat staring at the blackened walls, as though the next instant the walls must draw aside and reveal the Empire of Mystery.

The prayer was ended. The Master began to speak the sermon of the New Year.

The students had not the strength to look into his

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glowing face; but when they closed their eyes each of his words came before them, and each word had a form; some were ablaze in light, some shadow dark, and some were pure and stainless as God's love on earth. With their eyes closed they sat, young and aged, and listened, and saw.

The voice of Rabbi Israel was ever as a gently sounded bell, though when he uttered fullest prayer his voice became as the cry of the lark's throat. But on the day of the New Year his voice was fresh and nimble. The ram's horn breathed through him and became a human call. The song of the Tekia knocked on the door of the soul, calling "come away"! The wavering notes of the Scherwarim wakened the freed souls like the freshness of day, and filled them with the tremblement of eternal longing. The high joyous cry of the Terua carried them up to Redemption.

And the Word upon which the Baal Shem spoke was the Word of the New Year:

"Sound on the mighty trumpet the sound of our Release!"

"Sound on the mighty trumpet!" he cried to the Almighty. "When the sphere of the year is rounded, and the souls of all things reach through the darkness toward a new birth, sound! See, Your children are become bitten under the assault of the storm. See, the fire of the wilderness has left her mark on them. But now the circle of Your year closes. The awful darkness on the other side has sent out her chill waves before her, already we feel their approach. Sound on the mighty Trumpet, O Lord, for the new Birth!

"Your punishment has bitten into our hand and

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eaten out the strength of life. Your banishment has hounded our feet until they tottered on solid earth. You sent the worm into our hearts, and they are gnawed like withered leaves. We have felt the icy hand of Your Will upon our foreheads, and our thoughts are stiffened and glazed. Sound on the mighty trumpet, O Lord, for our Release!

"The Angel of the Lord took hold of me during the night and led me outward, and I stood in nothingness, and the night lay upon my shoulders like a great burden, and the night rolled from below my prisoned feet. Then the Angel said, See! and the darkness faded, and I stood in a whited nothingness, and I saw.

"There between two chasms stood a narrow circular ridge. And within the ridge was enclosed a red depth like a sea of blood, and outside of it was a black depth like a sea of Night. And I saw, there walked a man upon the ridge, he walked like a blind man, with trembling feet, and his two weak arms wavered feeling against the darkness on one side of him and on the other; and his breast was all of glass, and I saw his heart flutter like a sick leaf in the wind, and on his brow was the mark of the icy Hand. The man went further and further around the ridge, without seeing to right or to left, and he was nearly come to the end of the circle, where his beginning had been. And I wanted to call to him, but that which I saw stopped my tongue, and I could not move it, as though it were stone. For suddenly the man had raised his eyes and seen what was on the right and on the left of him, then he staggered, and from each chasm arms reached upward to seize him.

"Then the Angel touched my lips, and my tongue

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was free, and I called and I shouted to him, "Lift up your wings and fly!" Then behold, the man lifted up wings! there was no more weakness or fear in him; then the ridge faded from beneath his feet, and the chasm of blood was dissolved in God's spring-water, and the chasm of night melted in God's light, and the City of the Lord lay before me, open everyways.

"Behold, the year is a circle. We go on a narrow circular ridge between two chasms, and we do not see their depth. But when we come to the end of the way that is also its beginning, then the trembling of fear falls upon us as before the thunder from on high, and the lightning of the Lord flashes over the chasm, and we see the chasm, and we quiver.

"Then the trumpet sounds over us, and takes hold of our souls and carries them, each call of the trumpet carries myriads of souls upon its wings! And the sounds of the trumpet leap up to Heaven, and the Heavens listen, and fear and trembling comes over the Heavens as before the thunder of the Lord; and the trumpet resounds! And the Trumpet of the World carries on its wings that soul that shall be born out of all our souls, and is the soul of Messiah. And he climbs up to the Kingdom of Mysteries, and he beats with his wings on the Door, and the Door falls open, and behold, there is neither door nor wall remaining, but the City of God lies there, open everyways.

"Sound on the mighty trumpet, O Lord, for the birth of the Soul!"

The voice of the Baal Shem Tov was like the trumpet, until it ceased. Then he arose from the

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table, and went into his chamber, and locked himself there. And there he remained, motionless in striving. For his utmost power was gone forward in his demand, and his soul awaited surely the coming of Messiah.

And the students also arose from about the table, and went out. As sleepwalkers they went through the streets, unseeing, and filled with yearning. At the borders of the city there was a hut where they would come together that they might undisturbed occupy themselves with thoughts of the Eternal. There they now went. And the Wings of the Voice were still over them.

But at that time there lived in the house of the Baal Shem Tov a young boy whose name was Joseph, and who was called Yohseleh. When the Master had gone into his chamber, and the students had all gone to their cottage outside the city, the boy remained alone at the long table, for he was too young to go with the others to their meditations. Yohseleh remained sitting there, within the darkening walls, and he felt the wings of the Voice upon his shoulders.

And when the first shadow of the twilight trembled goldenbrown over the white table-cloth, Yohseleh laid his head on his hands, he was in terror before the Will of the Voice, and he sank under the heaviness of the wings of the Voice that were on his shoulders. His closed fingers, pressed before his eyes, set him into deepest darkness; but in that darkness there wakened a Light that sang with the same Voice whose will he so feared. The Voice pressed upon Yohseleh with an irresistible force, and like tears long held

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back it suddenly burst forth, and Yohseleh cried, "Now and at once Messiah must come!"

Then the room became as far away, and the walls disappeared, and before him was a Light that gave out rings of illumination, as a night-time sun. And Yoseleh ran toward the Light. But here was the door, like a piercing, wakening pain. The boy stood for a second, as one on a narrow ridge between two chasms, who suddenly sees his danger. The Lightning of the Lord went out of him, and he was afraid, shuddering. But then the Power seized him as with the strength of the Cherubim, and the Voice cried, and Light fell once more into his heart and burned there. And Yohseleh opened the door and ran out, he ran through the streets of the city, and he ran in terrible haste until he came to the cottage of the students. Here his feet stopped. And his throat split open, and he cried, "Messiah!"

But there was no loud voice about him; only his own voice sounded and resounded slowly, and lived, and was like the Voice whose Wings he had felt upon his shoulders.

He forced his eyes to open, and made himself see.

There the aged ones sat on the threshold of the house, in a long, curved row, and every mouth was hard closed, and every look was far in the horizon, and not a limb moved.

Then Yohseleh heard his own voice crying, "Now and at once Messiah comes!" and he heard his own voice resounding in the midst of the staring silence. Then the soul of the boy flew upon the Wings of the Voice, and lay within the breast of the first of the

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students, and Yohseleh said, "Nachum, do you still remember how you fasted from one Sabbath to the other, that Messiah might come? Do you still remember how I came to you when you lay on the ground on the last day, and beat your forehead against the floor, how we cried and prayed together then? Now see, Messiah comes!" But the other was silent.

Then the soul rose and flew to the second student, and crept into his sleep, and Yohseleh said, "Elimelech, I saw you once bowed over a fire until your hairs fell into the flames, and your lips uttered the name, Messiah! I saw you once lift up your arms and shake your hands against the heavens, and your lips uttered the name, Messiah! Elimelech, he comes!" But the other was silent.

And again the soul went out, and flew to the third, and nestled in his hand, and Yohseleh said, "Yehuda, I heard you once when you spoke magic over the waters, and uttered dim words in the way of the wind. Your magic ran with the waters, and your enchantments flew with the wind. But now, Yehuda, hear me, now he comes, do you not hear him coming? Yehuda, let us go and greet him!" But he also was silent.

Yohseleh looked upon these aged ones, and his soul looked on them, and he saw them listening to a distant step. So they sat in a long, bent row, and listened to a distant step, and looked into infinity. Then loneliness came over Yohseleh and laid her cold hard hand upon the nape of his neck, and the nails of the fingers sank deep into his flesh, and the hand lay on his neck like a live, in-crawling mark. And Yohseleh saw how the Light went out of his own heart and faded from

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before his eyes. And Yohseleh felt how the wings upon his shoulders shrank, and fell away. And Yohseleh wanted to speak, but no voice came out of his throat. And Yohseleh wanted to go from there, but he could not lift his feet. And Yohseleh sat in the row with the others, and looked into the distance, and listened for a distant step.

So they sat together, until the stars came. And in his chamber the Baal Shem Tov struggled to force down the presence of Messiah. And as long as he continued the struggle, the sound of a distant step was in their ears. But when the sun was gone, the Baal Shem was empty of strength. And he knew that the heavens would not yield before his urge.

Then the binding power was loosed from the students. They arose, and returned to the city.